Demons, Demigods and Hunters: Return from Hell
by eatyourhartout
Summary: Lucifer has arisen and the Winchesters are desperately trying to avert The Apocalypse. While working on a way to kill the devil, an old friend has been returned to them. Anna has spent the last thousand years in hell. Literally. Suddenly she'd back and she doesn't know whats real and what isn't. Thrown straight back into the fight, but what is this half crazy demigod do?
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue**

She sat huddled in the chair, long hair sitting lank across her face, concealing a blank expression and empty eyes. He flips through a file in his hand, repressing a sigh as he scans over the familiar documents inside.

Approximately twenty six years old, found unconscious on the side of the road, covered in blood and dirt and injuries synonymous with months, if not years, of systematic imprisonment and torture. Jane Doe. Cold case.

The police believed that whoever it was that had attacked her had kept her for a long time, before burying her alive. Her story makes every single staffer in the hospital all the more sympathetic to the silent patient.

When she had first arrived, it had been like dealing with a rabid animal, feral and afraid. He believed that with whatever happened to her, she hadn't had any kind of positive human interaction in a long long time. No interaction with another human being that didn't result in pain or fear. But in the past few months, an abrupt change had occurred in her condition.

She went from feral, to empty in the course of a few days. She hardly responded to outside stimuli, and continued her pattern of complete muteness. But now, instead of light growls or snarls, she just sits in an eerie silence that unsettles the other patients. Jane Doe mostly just drifts through the day, completely ignoring anyone around her.

At night, however, he is forced to lock her away in a padded room, strapped tightly to her bed, so that as she lashes out in terror, she can't hurt herself or others, as one of the nurses found out the hard way during her first night. She broke three ribs and shattered the poor man's elbow before they were able to wake her. And even then, she was like a cornered animal, rabid and afraid. It had taken several orderlies and a heavy dose of tranquilizers to calm her down. They aren't equipped to deal with violent patients; but Jane Doe isn't violent. Not really. So they drug her heavily at night, and lock her away while they exchange sympathetic glances as she cried and screamed and thrashed in her sleep. Then watch her carefully during the day as she simply… exists.

Dr. Fuller closed the file gently, finally looking up at his favorite patient. Challenging, dangerous and broken; still at her core, there was something he could see as innately good. The only time she hurt people was if she or someone else was in any perceived danger. Or if she was having a nightmare.

"The nurses tell me that you're not taking your medication. You wanna tell me why?" He asked her gently. Not really expecting a reply, but the interaction would be good for her. Hopefully someday he would reach the small part of her brain the person she used to be was hiding inside of.

"Jane?" The doctor asked her again gently. She ignored him. Just like always. He wished that he knew her real name. But she won't talk, and the police found no ID on her. No matches to any missing persons database, nothing on her fingerprints or her DNA. So Jane she remained. He took another glance at his notes from other patients.

"Is this about the monster the others are seeing? About Annie?" Nothing. He stood up and moved around his desk slowly, both hands out in front of him to show her he wasn't going to hurt her. That was important. If Jane thought she was in danger, she would lash out. And he didn't want to be forced to send her away to a different facility. Dr. Fuller crouched down in front of her, his dark eyes meeting her sharp grey irises.

Internally he smiled. Some progress at least. Usually, she won't meet anyone's gaze, her eyes darting all over, always on guard for some perceived threat. Outwardly, he sighed, gently smoothing back several strands of dark hair from her face.

"I know Annie was a friend of yours, and what happened to her was painful for all of us. But just because others see a monster to help make her passing easier, doesn't mean you should believe them. You need that medicine Jane. It will help you." Her gaze was eerie. An icy stormy grey, her eyes held his own gaze steadily, the once vacant expression gaining a spark of something. He wasn't sure what it was. And even as he felt a flicker of triumph with the progress he'd made, he had a tremulous feeling he didn't want to know what that something was.

* * *

 **AN: Annnnnnd we're back! Updates will be slow, but the adventure now continues nearly three years after Anna's fall into Hell. This story begins during the Supernatural episode _Sam Interrupted (S:5 E:11)_**


	2. Chapter 2

_Dean_

He leaned against the couch, waiting for Sam. No matter how cute the nurse was; that exam was... violating. Dean wasn't actually crazy, at least no more insane than any other hunter was. He thought for a moment about all the crap they'd gone through.

 _'Well, ok. Maybe a little crazy. But definitely not loony bin worthy.'_ He sighed in relief and pushed off the couch to greet Sam, who looked mildly disturbed as he walked down the hall.

"How was your Silkwood shower?" He asked. Sam nodded awkwardly, and Dean followed suit. The whole place was giving him the heebie jeebies. He could practically _smell_ the crazy. Or maybe it was just the bleach all hospitals seemed to use. Every single one of them smelled the same.

"Okay. Yeah, good. Yeah, good, umm... good water pressure. Did the nurse... " Sam asked uncomfortably. Dean nodded quickly, trying to avoid the topic.

"She was very thorough." He said shortly. Sam nodded, fidgeting nervously.

"Yeah. Yeah, good. Good. Yeah." He trailed off. Dean ignored his stammering brother as he assessed the room. The people inside were all so quiet, it was weird. One woman was just flipping a single page back and forth over and over and over again, and another was having some kind of staring contest with a pink bunny rabbit. Dean fought the urge to flee, thinking back to the time he'd yelled at Sam that they were insane for hunting a ghost.

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this." He groaned quietly. Sam just shrugged.

"Hey, it's the least we could do. Martin saved Dad's ass more times than we can count. He's a great hunter." Dean frowned before correcting his brother.

" _Was_. Until Albuquerque." He shuddered as he remembered the scattered details about that particular hunt. He wasn't even there, but the stories he'd heard... those were more than enough. His brother shrugged again.

"Besides, I just figure it's best we keep busy. That's all." A weird feeling crawled down his neck at Sam's tone of voice. He knew that one. His voice lowered to a dangerous growl. Or at least, dangerous if you weren't Sammy.

"Better than _what_?"

"Nothing." His kid brother replied quickly, trying to cover. Dean refused to take that as an answer, gesturing for him to continue. They stared each other down for a moment before Sam relented.

"Okay. Look...um...last few weeks, you've kind of been worrying me." Dean thought his eyes might fall out based on how hard he rolled them.

 _'Not this crap again.'_

"Oh, come on, Sam. Stop. Look, just because we're in the loony bin doesn't give you the right to head-shrink me." He snapped harshly.

"Dean..." Sam said softly, pleading. He quickly cut his brother off.

"Ellen and Jo dying, yeah, it was a friggin' tragedy, okay? But I'm not gonna wallow in it." And he wouldn't. Hunting is dangerous, and hunting around him and Sam, even more so. People died. Dean forced himself to push away the memory of clear grey eyes and dark whiskey, repress the memories of the smell of the wind mixed with a worn leather coat and the low rumble of a motorcycle as he looked at Sam's worried expression.

"Dean, you always do this. You can't just keep this crap in." His expression hardened. He knew where this conversation was leading. _Her_.

It always did.

"Watch me." He snapped. He glanced around the room and spotted the sallow older man in the corner of the room, staring almost vacantly out the window. A drawing pad and crayons were sitting on the table in front of him.

"Oh, there he is." Ignoring the hurt look on Sam's face he started to walk towards the other hunter. When they reached the older ex-hunter, they exchanged a few stilted greetings before getting down to business.

As Martin talked, Dean's disbelief grew. While he could acknowledge that the five deaths were kinda freaky, nothing else about the information they were getting seemed helpful. And according to Martin, the only patient who got more than a quick glimpse at the monster was a traumatized woman who had been in the hospital for eight months, and had never spoken a word in that time. Sure, some screaming at night, a few orderlies with broken bones but besides for that, Jane Doe is a very nice crazy person. He nearly snorted as he glanced around the room again, spotting a woman humming to herself and dancing alone.

"Gee, why wouldn't they be?" He muttered. No, no one here was going to be a reliable witness. Sam reassured Martin that they were on the case, but as they talked Dean's doubts kept growing. There was a case, but Martin clearly had a few screws loose. He was almost relieved that Doc Fuller came and interrupted them. But even then, he was singled out.

 _'Codependency? I don't depend on Sam! If anything, Sam depends on_ me _...'_


	3. Chapter 3

_Dean_

"When was the last time you were in a long term relationship?" Dean froze. He felt a little cold, as though there really was a ghost like he'd been teasing the good doctor about. A very real one that always hovered around his shoulder. He could practically feel the ghostly specter run a cool hand down his cheek, hear the ruffle of journal pages, see the glint of four mystery metals in fire light, as the phantom of a monster flitted around the edges of a protective barrier.

"Define relationship." He asked, suddenly subdued.

"Romantic. Longer than two months." She added efficiently. Dean glanced down at his hands. Technically, nothing happened. But, he'd certainly _felt_ something. And according to Sam, _she_ had too. Only he'd been too blind to notice. And now it was too late. Clear grey eyes glared at him accusingly in his mind's eye.

His pause had gone on too long. An immaculately groomed eyebrow arched into the air.

"Eddie?" Dean glanced up again.

"Never." He rebounded quickly, hitting Dr. Cartwright with his next question. But he couldn't quite ignore the sound of a familiar laugh ringing in his ears, or stop himself from noticing a rainbow glinting in the corner of his eye.


	4. Chapter 4

_Sam_

As he sat down for group, he glanced around the room casually. A circle of about eight other patients sat in plain plastic chairs, a mix of young and old, but they all looked nervous. Especially the girl immediately to the right of Dr. Fuller. Her knees were drawn into her, curling into a defensive ball. Dark hair tumbled over her shoulders and onto her knees, obscuring her face. Martin leaned over, nodding in the girl's direction.

"That's Jane." Sam nodded back subtly. He shifted in his seat, observing the strange Jane Doe, who didn't speak and was possibly their only lead on the monster they were hunting. Maybe even the monster herself. He couldn't eliminate any possibilities yet.

Suddenly the girl looked up and Sam felt the world fall out from beneath him.

Horribly familiar grey eyes stared at him; empty and distant. The eyes of a dead woman.

Jane Doe was Anna Colt.


	5. Chapter 5

_Sam_

He spots Dean on his way into his own group session. Sam knows he _has_ to tell Dean about who Jane Doe really is. According to Martin, Anna sits in on _all_ the group sessions, mostly because it ensures she has some kind of regular interaction with people besides doctors. Otherwise she would sit in a chair in the rec room or on her bed and do nothing.

Sam knows that he _cannot_ let Dean just walk into that surprise. Sam still remembered what Dean was like after she had died, or rather, when they'd _thought_ she'd died.

For two days after Wyoming, Dean did nothing but drink and break furniture. The only time he reigned it in was when Nico, Annabeth or Percy were around. He was angry and destructive and the nothingness of no cases those first few days was making everything worse. Then on the third day, it was like everything had shut off. Like she'd never existed in the first place. The only sign since then was that they never spoke her name, and Dean always carried the stupid burner phone she'd always told him to get rid of. And that once every couple of months he made sure to stop by New York to check on Nico and take him someplace fun. Sam had continued that for Dean while he'd been in Hell.

 _'If Cas pulled Dean out of Hell, who pulled Anna out? And more importantly, why?'_ Sam wondered. Even though he had no idea how he was going to break the news, he knew he needed to tell Dean before he found out on his own. Walking up behind his brother he calls out in a harsh whisper.

"Dean, hey." His brother turned around. Sam opened his mouth, then closed it frowning. Dean's hands were stuffed in his pockets, toes scuffing the floor. His whole expression was fairly reminiscent of a kicked puppy. Sam felt the first stirrings of panic in his chest. Dean doesn't do kicked puppy. Dean was the stoic, nothing bothers me, no chick flick moments type.

"You okay?" He asked instead. Dean's face furrows, irritation etched across his expression.

"I just got thraped. So no, I am not okay. Tell me you found something." Dean demanded. Sam's stomach churned, and he fidgeted slightly. He _had_ to tell Dean.

"Yeah, actually I found a few things. This one guy said he saw it, we should talk to him." He hesitated as Dean nodded, already turning away.

"Also Dean. Jane Doe, the mute girl Martin told us about? I saw her, in group. Apparently she sits in on all the group sessions." Dean shrugged.

"Ok, what about her? Think we can get her to talk or is she just kooky dukes?" Sam sighed, shifting his weight. Dean's brow furrowed as he examined Sam's anxious expression.

"Sammy..." He said quietly. Sam took a deep breath.

"Dean, Jane Doe. I'm pretty sure... I'm pretty sure she's Anna. Actually, I'm certain of it. It's not some monster wearing her face. She's human. I checked." His brother froze. Sam stood awkwardly, as anxiety flooded his body. By some unspoken agreement, they never talked about her. Not to each other at least. Sam did to Bobby, at least he did more right after she'd jumped through the gate in Wyoming. But as the months passed, they brought her up less and less as the pain of losing her lessened. He doubts Dean has spoken her name out loud since the day she died. Sam is certain that losing Anna poisoned him against relationships, and cemented his type of hook up.

Since Wyoming Dean hasn't touched a woman who looked like her. Sure he flirted with them, but the women Dean fell into bed with never had dark hair or grey eyes. They never moved with the grace of someone who understood exactly how their body worked, and they never had that innate steel core that was evident on Anna even before he'd known she was a hunter. Sam suspected Dean still harbored some feelings for Anna. His older brother had always been a player, but after Anna, it always seemed like he held everyone at an even farther distance than he had before.

They stood there in silence for another minute before Dean moved.

"How?" He muttered lowly, his eyes hard and cold. Sam shrugged.

"All I know is she is sitting in that room, but I don't think anyone is home. At least not in any recognizable way." Sam sighed, glancing down the hall.

"Martin said when she arrived eight months ago she was practically feral, snarling and skittish, more animal than human. But a few months ago, right after the suicides began she just... she went... blank." Sam wasn't sure how else to describe what she was like now. Dean nodded shortly, pain clouding his features. Sam sighed.

"Look, we still gotta talk to the guy who we know saw it, and is willing and able to _actually_ communicate with us. We'll deal with Anna later. Meet here in an hour?" Dean nodded shortly, turning to leave.

"Sooner we take care of this thing, sooner we can leave." Sam nodded. He doubted that was how it was actually going to work. They couldn't leave Anna here, no matter how crazy she might be. She was one of theirs, and Sam wasn't going to let her down. And neither would Dean.


	6. Chapter 6

**Warning:** The following scene is Dean in hell. There is some torture involved. If you don't want to read the torture scene skip to the end of this chapter for a recap; this is an important part of the plot and will affect Dean's relationships with the world around him.

* * *

 _Flashback_

 _He slumped down, his head hanging low. His voice was too tired to scream, the pain too overwhelming and yet he could never escape it. Never fade away or pass out or die. It was this, forever. Alistair paced around him, smirking as he ran the damned razor across his soul. Slicing, cutting, peeling._

 _Today's flavor of the day was getting flayed. His soul peeled away in long, even, strips. He could feel the phantom sensation of blood; hot as it ran across him in imaginary rivers. The hooks that tore into his hands and feet tugged oddly, the chains rattling painfully every time he twitched. Suddenly Alistair dug the razor in deeper and Dean found within himself the strength to scream again. Pain. Blind hot white pain bloomed across his soul as he screamed. Alistair just laughed, whispering into his ear; pulling from his soul all the horrors that he was afraid of. All the nightmares he'd fought at a man, real and imagined. His mother's death. His father's death. Sammy, laying in his arms bloody and still and dead. Anna vanishing behind the crumbling walls of the devil's gate. And on and on and on and on._

 _Somewhere behind him he heard screams. Which wasn't all the different from the usual, except these screams seemed shorter. More abrupt. Filled with fear rather than pain. Alistair froze, the blade of the razor digging deeply into Dean's body. A horrible smirk spread across his face._

 _"Ah. The half blooded bitch strikes again. But today, mmm. Her blood smells just, so, lovely." Alistair examines Dean carefully. A wide smile grew on his face. Apprehension filled Dean, sending adrenaline to rush through his phantom body. He knew it was just his soul, but it_ felt _like a body, with blood and skin and bones to hurt. Alistair spoke in his customary soft tone, the pleasant mannerisms a stark contrast to the vicious bastard he actually was._

 _"Yes, hmm. What to do..." He smirked at Dean._

 _"I think I must go now. Don't go anywhere Dean. I have someone else to see." Pulling the blade out from under his skin, the demon left abruptly. He wasn't sure if he should be relieved that the pain had ended, or terrified of what fresh torment the delay would bring him._

* * *

 **Recap:** Dean is being tortured in hell by Alistair when a commotion breaks out in another area of hell. Alistair makes references to a halfblood (guess who) striking again and how her blood smells good. He leaves Dean to go deal with the problem.


	7. Chapter 7

_Dean_

He felt like he was walking around in a fugue state. Even though Sam had warned him, walking into group and seeing Anna's curled up figure in her chair still felt like a punch to the gut. What made the whole fucked up situation even worse, was when group ended, he saw her shuffle gracelessly out of the room to the gentle prompting of Dr. Fuller. Lifeless and dull.

It was like something had just sucked all the personality out of her. Her previously innate grace was buried away, nearly gone. Her once sharp eyes were dull, and her long dark hair was lank and uncared for. Not that Anna had ever been vain, but she'd still been _a girl_. Washed and styled her hair, wore flattering clothing and had occasionally enjoyed dressing up. The shell Dean saw in group was almost nothing like her. It tore at him inside; ripping open the lockbox he had built for himself to contain all the _things_ he'd felt for her.

He'd promised to live in the sun for her. And he'd tried, really tried. But then he'd gone to Hell, and then the seals were breaking and then the mess with Ruby and Lucifer rising and suddenly it was like no matter how hard he'd tried, the darkness was crushing him. But he'd always had the memory of her to pull him along. And now... even that was gone.

But Dean was certain of one thing. If that wraith went after Anna, he had no doubt that his old friend would lose. So he stood on guard, watching the security mirror, checking everyone who passed by for a monstrous visage. So far, nothing.

As he continues to vigilantly inspect people through the mirror, he hears the distinctive _click click_ of his shrink's shoes.

"What's up, Doc?" He asked flippantly, as he continued to examine everybody who passed by him in the mirror. She leans against the wall next to him, mirroring his own alert position.

"You tell me." Dean fights the urge to smirk at the irony of being able to tell the absolute truth about what he does. He gives in as he snorts a little.

"Hunting. A wraith, actually. Could be anybody." He shrugged, glancing at the Doc, even as he kept one eye on the mirror.

"So, I could be a monster?" She asked him. Dean glances into the mirror and sees nothing different. Same human face. He shakes his head before going back to check everyone else.

"No, you're clean." He reassures her. He checks a passing patient in the mirror. Also clean.

"Why you?" She asked suddenly. He frowns, mildly confused.

"Why me, what?" Dr. Cartwright shrugged, even as she watches the mirror with him. Dean kept his eyes on the mirror even as he listen to her respond.

"Why do _you_ have to hunt monsters? Why not let someone else do it?" He freezes for a moment. Dean has no plans on discussing yellow eyes or any of the crazy from the past few years. He falls back onto old habits, and deflects.

"Can't find anybody else that dumb." He said with a laugh. He paused for a moment. In the hospital, this is as close to sharing and caring he can do for the job. He shrugs to himself.

 _'In for a penny, in for a pound.'_ Dean sighed before continuing.

"It's my job. Somebody's gotta save people's asses, yours included." He admitted.

"So, is there a quota? How many people do you have to save?" Dean pushed down the irritation that came with the question. Of course there isn't a quota. He could never put a price on human life. Helping people is just what he does, he's not fulfilling some demented checklist.

"All of them." He replied with certainty. And he would. Every single person he could. Disbelief colored Dr. Cartwright's face as she repeated his words.

"All of them? You think you have to save everyone?"

"Yep. Whole wide world of sports." He nodded, ignoring the strange expression on her face.

"How?" The one word packed a punch. It was a question he asked himself every single day. _How._ She gave him a hard look.

"Believe me, whatever you've got, I've heard weirder." She prompted him. He sighed.

"It's the end of the world, okay? I mean, it's the damn Biblical apocalypse, and if I don't stop it and save everyone, then no one will, and we all die." He looked over at the doc seriously. She had a sympathetic expression on her face.

"That's horrible."

"Yeah, tell me about it." Dean shrugged nonchalantly. In a weird way, it was nice to be crazy, to talk to a relatively non judgmental stranger, about his problems. It was freeing, in a bizarre kind of way.

"I mean, apocalypse or no apocalypse...monsters or no monsters, that's a crushing weight to have on your shoulders. To feel like six billion lives depend on you...God...how do you get up in the morning?" Dean finally looked away from the mirror, focusing on the quiet woman with icy grey eyes staring silently out a window.

"I made a girl a promise."


	8. Chapter 8

_Dean_

Even as Dr. Cartwright tried to ask him more about Anna, or rather the promise he had made to her after she'd fallen into Hell, he ignored her. His eyes were drawn to her sullen form, sitting rigidly by the window.

He knew time ran differently _downstairs_ , and he didn't know how long she was there. But it was at least a year, likely longer. That was centuries of torment. Of running and hiding and fighting. To be ripped away from that and returned to the land of the living, even if it was preferable to the torment of Hell, the adjustment was still... uncomfortable. Dean still struggled with his own miracle. He remembered the first time he had met Cas, just a few days after his return from Hell.

 _The warehouse was empty and quiet. He glanced up at Bobby, and finally voiced the question that had been on his mind for the past several minutes._

 _"You sure you did the ritual right?" He asked. The older hunter just shot him an unimpressed look. Dean sighed._

 _"Sorry. Touchy touchy, huh?" He muttered. Suddenly the walls began to rattle, and the lights around them flickered. He and Bobby both reach for their shotguns, turning around to face the doors, even as the roof shook and shuddered._

 _"Wishful thinking, but maybe it's just the wind," Dean said quietly. He didn't see Bobby's reaction because at that moment, the doors burst in. A man in a trench coat, and a business suit walked in. As the stranger stalked through the warehouse, the light bulbs began to shatter, glass spraying everywhere. Dean and Bobby opened fire, but nothing happened. Not even a scratch. The only thing damaged was the odd trench coat the stranger wore._

 _Dean slowly reached for the demon killing knife, holding it defensively in front of him._

 _"Who are you?" He demanded. The man had a strange expression on his face, a mix of earnest and curious and maybe even a little bit innocent. He looked at Dean for a moment before responding in a gravelly voice._

 _"I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition." Dean snorted with derision. He ignored the little voice inside that was reminding him that he'd gotten free a week early._

 _"No. They let me go. That was the deal; one month for every day he was gone. But thanks." The man looked surprised. Dean took the opening and plunged the knife into the man's chest. He looked down, unconcerned, and pulled it out before dropping it onto the floor. Dean's eyes widened with shock. Bobby attacked the man, diving forward. The man didn't even look as he snatched the iron crowbar out of Bobby's hand before touching his forehead with two fingers. Bobby crumpled to the floor, unconscious. The man glanced over to Dean, his face the same passive and bland expression he had been wearing when he walked into the warehouse._

 _"We need to talk, Dean. Alone." He ignored the man and dropped to the floor, pressing two fingers under Bobby's chin. He felt a steady flutter against his fingertips, Bobby's pulse strong and steady. The man frowned as he watched him._

 _"Your friend's alive." Dean just scowled harder._

 _"Who are you?" He demanded. He could practically feel her presence behind him, a feeling only cemented by the fact that he'd seen her while he'd been in Hell. She'd tried to help him, rescue him multiple times, but he'd sold his soul; he belonged to the Pit, no matter what she had done. She didn't, not till after his sentence was up at least; but stayed with him anyways. He only wished that when he'd woken up in his own coffin, he could have brought her back with him too._

 _"Castiel." Was the monosyllabic response. Dean felt a growl rising in his chest._

 _"Yeah, I figured that much, I mean what are you?" Castiel, and wasn't that a mouthful, looked at him blankly._

 _"I'm an Angel of the Lord." Dean felt the disbelief coursing through his system. If such things existed, then why was An- she gone, or why did his mom die at the hands of a demon, or his dad? If angels were real, why didn't they deal with Hell and it's denizens? No they were a myth. They had to be._

 _"Get the hell out of here. There's no such thing." He growled at Castiel, rising to his feet slowly. Dean hovered slightly in front of Bobby's prone body, protective of the only father figure he had left. Maybe the only one he'd ever properly had._

 _"This is your problem, Dean. You have no faith." He held Dean's gaze just that moment too long, his voice taking on a strange cadence. Lightning flashed again, and thunder rumbled. In the flashing light, Dean could see a pair a huge wings silhouetted against the wall, sprouting out of Castiel's back. They flexed slowly, powerfully. He felt a slight panic fill him. Angels weren't real, they couldn't be. And yet, the proof of it stood before him. Dean snorted._

 _"Some angel you are. You burned out that poor woman's eyes." He taunted, voice cool. The angel, because he couldn't deny that's what he was, looked slightly guilty at his words, glancing to the ground in acknowledgment._

 _"I warned her not to spy on my true form. It can be... Overwhelming to humans, and so can my real voice. But you already knew that." Dean felt a sudden realization rush through him, as he remembered shattering glass and the unbearable noise from the gas station and motel._

 _"You mean at the motel? That was you talking?" Castiel nodded. Dean glared._

 _"Buddy, next time, lower the volume." He snarled._

 _"That was my mistake. Certain people, special people, can perceive my true visage. I thought you would be one of them. I was wrong."_

 _"And what visage are you in now, huh? What, holy tax accountant?" Dean asked derisively. Castiel glanced down at his ruined trench coat._

 _"This? This is... A vessel." Dean felt his already unstable temper slip even further._

 _"You're possessing some poor bastard?" He growled out. Possession was Evil. Capital E, and utterly wrong. To steal someone's body, drive it around like a car, it was just wrong. Utterly utterly wrong. If one could shrug with a facial expression, that's what the angel did. It served only to piss Dean off even more._

 _"He's a devout man, he actually prayed for this." He said matter of factly. Dean scoffed, glaring._

 _"Well, I'm not buying what you're selling, so who are you really?"_

 _"I told you." The angel looked confused, bright blue eyes boring into Dean's. The hunter snorted._

 _"Right. And why would an angel rescue me from Hell?" He asked, disdain dripping from every word. He had no doubt that there were others more deserving of the angel rescue squad, especially since he already had a get out of jail free card. He could think of at least one._

 _"Good things do happen, Dean." Castiel stepped closer to him, as though the gravity of his presence could force Dean to have faith. He shook his head, suppressing memories of blood, pain, fire and the screams of the tormented. Memories of her in that place, when she deserved it least of all._

 _"Exactly one good thing has ever just happened to me, and she's rotting in Hell. So no, they don't, not in my experience." Dean retorted. Castiel tilted his head, examining Dean's face._

 _"What's the matter? You don't think you deserve to be saved?" The angel asked softly. Dean tried to ignore the strong feelings that question invoked. Lock away the knowledge that he left someone important behind in the hellfire._

 _"Why me?" He asked instead. Why not her, he asked silently. The next words made him cold._

 _"Because God commanded it. Because we have work for you."_

And work there was. Two years of it. Two years where Dean wrestled with the idea that the douchebags with wings chose him instead of _her_. That he had been rescued after forty years, and left her behind for untold centuries. The guilt hung heavy around his neck, and some days the only way Dean was able to function was by drowning out his emotions with strong alcohol.

But now she was back. And he had no idea how, or why. And a huge part of him didn't care. She was free, and relatively safe. Anna could heal, and maybe one day return to society as a functional member. It was all he wanted for her. An apple pie life, free of monsters and demons and his family's baggage. A smaller part of him wanted her back, for her to rejoin him and Sam on the road; him in Baby, and her on that bike of hers. Or even better with her riding around in the backseat of the Impala. An even quieter part of him wished to share a white picket fenced yard and the matching house _with_ her, while Sammy lived down the street.

However he couldn't quite repress the part of him that was the cold hunter; how did she escape? And what does that mean for the impending end of the world?

He sighed, and turned his full attention back to the mirror in time to glimpse Dr. Fuller as he headed towards Anna. He did a double take.

A gray, decaying face stared out at him from the mirror's reflection. Dean's eyes widened, and a chill ran down his spine. Dr. Fuller is the wraith.

And Anna is his favorite patient.


	9. Chapter 9

_Sam_

He peered around the corner and quickly ducks back as he spots Dr. Fuller. He was looking down at a clipboard; Anna's patient chart. He wondered why Anna was isolated; all alone in the west wing of the hospital.

The he realized that it must be arranged like this to make feeding on her easier. Rage filled him as Sam took a deep breath, gripping the silver plated knife in his hand tightly. He only just found her alive again, broken and insane, but alive. He would not lose her, would not fail her. Not like he'd failed Jess, or Jo or Ellen or his dad or even Dean. He wouldn't fail her. Not this time.

He lunged around the corner, the knife slicing down into the doctor's arm. With a yell, Dr. Fuller reeled back, and orderlies rushed to restrain him. Sam swung his fists, throwing one orderly into a wall, and the other through a window. He lunged forwards, snatching up the dropped knife.

He raced down the hall, following the sound of pounding footsteps, single mindedly focused on killing the wraith. Sam caught up quickly, and tackled the doctor to the ground. He raised the knife into the air, intent on stabbing it straight down into the tweed covered chest when a cold hand catches his wrist.

Sam glanced back in surprise to see Anna holding his arm, her thumb digging into his pulse point on his wrist. Pain began to shoot up his arm as he wrestled with her, trying to get the knife away. Cold silver eyes flashed in the dim hospital light.

"Anna, please I gotta do this." Sam muttered, but she shouldered him off the doctor. Picking up the knife she drops into a defensive crouch, but as Sam rises up again she lunged at him. With fast, violent movements she struck, hitting him across his chest and arms with small fast punches before dropping down to sweep his legs out from under him. Stumbling, Sam backed up quickly, working hard to defend himself. He couldn't do much more than try to protect his face and vital organs, as her hits came hard and fast, winding him.

Sam had only ever seen Anna fight full out once, and that was the night in the cemetery in Wyoming nearly three years ago. But even before then, Sam had known that Anna was a better fighter than him, better than Dean and probably even better than their dad. But this, this was something else. It was like all the intention she'd once carried in every motion had been stolen from her; leaving nothing but speed and power and raw skill. The fluidity of her current movements betrayed the numb stumble she'd walked with earlier in the day. Like she was a different person entirely in that moment. The hunter she used to be was back in the harsh predatory glare and in the skilled movement of her body. He knew without a doubt, that if she really wanted too, Anna could have killed him by now.

Ducking and dodging her hard blows Sam felt his back hit the wall, and the flurry of movement suddenly stopped. The knife was dug deeply under his chin, and she was leaning up high; blank silver eyes boring into his. Suddenly she stepped away, the knife clattering to the floor uselessly as she wandered aimlessly away. As though nothing had happened. He was so stunned that he stayed still long enough for the orderlies to tackle him to the ground.

Suddenly, Sam remembered what he was supposed to be doing and started to struggle for the knife again. But when he glanced up at Dr. Fuller, he realized something. His skin was completely normal, the cut wasn't burning at all. Dean was wrong. Dr. Fuller wasn't the wraith.

Sam went limp as he realized what he'd nearly done. What he'd been _willing_ to do.


	10. Chapter 10

_Dean_

Dean stalked down the hall as he mulled over what Sam said. He shook his head.

"I'm not crazy." He muttered to himself. Sure he was a bit screwed in the head after hell, and the whole deal with Lucifer was making him _feel_ crazy, but Dean wasn't actually crazy. Although, his comment about Anna's possible lucidity, or return to it, niggled in the back of his mind. But the idea, that she had such control, even while out of her mind, worried Dean. Worried him for what it meant.

"You missed our session today." Dr. Cartwright's calm voice drifted from behind him as the brunette doctor joined him as he walked through the hospital. Dean wasn't in the mood to deal with the nosey shrink.

"A little busy." Dean snapped at her.

"Still hunting that wraith?" She asked him, completely unperturbed by his hostile tone.

"People are dying." He retorted impatiently, speeding up slightly as he tried to lose her. Instead the doctor speed up to match his pace, continuing to speak in her reasonable, calm voice that was beginning to get on Dean's nerves.

"People die all the time." She replied smoothly. Dean frowned at the callous indifference to innocent death. Just because death was common didn't make it any less tragic.

"Look, lady, why don't you just let me do my job, maybe save your life." He growled back at her.

"It's not my life that I'm worried about." Dean turned around, facing her fully, irritation rushing through him.

"Oh, my G-I am fine, okay? I'm fine." He insisted. An orderly down the hall glances over at them, but Dean ignored him as he fully focused his attention on the doctor in front of him.

"Come on, even you don't believe that. All this pressure that you're putting yourself under, all this guilt; it's killing you. You can't save everybody. You can't. Hell, these days, you can't save anybody, Dean." Her voice had gone hard and cold. Dean's blood chilled as she turned to walk away.

"What did you say?" He asked in a low dangerous voice. Dr. Cartwright turned back round to face him, dark eyes glinting with unexpected malice.

"The _truth_ , Dean. You got Ellen and Jo killed. You shot Lucifer, but you couldn't gank him." She taunted him softly. Dean began to back away slowly, anger and confusion pouring through him. But most of all, fear. Dr. Cartwright advanced, matching him step for step.

"You couldn't stop Sam from killing Lilith, and - oh, yeah - you broke the first seal. All you do is fail. Did you really think that you, Dean Winchester with a GED and a give-'em-hell attitude, was gonna beat the devil?" She snorted.

"Please. The world is gonna burn, and there is nothing that you can do about it" True fear finally triggered his best defense mechanism. Anger.

"Who are you? How do you know that stuff?" He snarled at her. The orderly from before puts down the laundry in his hand.

"Hey, settle down." He ordered. Dean ignored him, instead stepping closer to the brunette doctor.

"Tell me!" He snarled into her face. Footsteps approach, but Dean continued to study the young doctor's face, sinister dark eyes meeting his own green ones steadily.

"Who are you?" He muttered to her, backing away slowly. He glanced at the approaching orderly.

"Who is she?" He demanded. The slightly round man in bright white scrubs sighed, looking resigned.

"Who?" The orderly asked tiredly. Dean grew angry again.

"What are you, blind? Her!" He snapped, gesturing forcefully at the woman. Sammy's words played in the back of his head, an ominous reel of a nightmare come to life.

"Pal, there's nobody there." The orderly said, even as the phantom doctor began to speak again.

"I'm not real, Dean. I'm in your head...because you are going crazy." She whispered to him maliciously. Dean backed away from her, glancing up at the orderly, then down again at the now empty place Dr. Cartwright had once stood.

"Just leave me alone." Dean muttered, turning away and marching down the hall. Adrenaline rushed through his body as he shakes in fear. Glancing up into a mirror, he noticed that the overly friendly nurse looked like the wraith. Dean shook his head, and noticed that two more patients he passed had similarly horrific reflections. He stumbled a little, as his logic left him, replaced by fear.

He slammed his body into a door, desperately trying to get through the locked door. He slides down the wall, eyes wide. Maybe Sam was right.

Maybe Dean really is going crazy.


	11. Chapter 11

_Dean_

Dean and Martin burst into Wendy's room, the only person to have had serious contact with either him or Sam. She had kissed them both at random intervals. He was utterly convinced that she was the wraith; just like he was convinced that if he stepped on the cracks of the tiles, he would end up falling through them back into Hell.

But to his complete shock, the weird nurse from their first day was hovering over Wendy's prone body, her wrists slit. The nurse glanced up at him, her odd smile still firmly in place as she withdrew a skewer from Wendy's neck.

"Is this real?" Dean muttered. The nurse laughed gently, standing up. Her dark eyes glittered oddly.

"Oh, it's real sugar."


	12. Chapter 12

_Dean_

He stumbles down the hall, his head spinning as he tries to work out what is real and what isn't. Dean grips the silver plated knife in his hand tightly. It's the only thing that could save him and Sammy and Anna. He had to protect them. He had to.

He follows the blood, the only thing about the hallway that he knew was real. He collapsed to his knees, as the hall distorts around him. He suddenly recognized the hallway he was stumbling down.

This was the wing where the more troublesome patients stayed. Right now, the only two people staying here was Anna, and... Sammy. Dean shoved himself back onto his feet just as he heard a loud crashing sound from Sam's room, a muffled shout of panic spurring him on. As he approached the door he could make out more and more of the conversation going on inside.

"I don't make crazy, I just crank up what's there. See, you build your own personal hell, I just hand you the legos. Then when you're ripe... Well, that's when I make all your problems go away." The nurse's voice drifted from the open door. He heard a crashing sound, and two grunts before he saw a shadow fall to the ground.

"ANNA!" Sam roared. Dean forced his numb legs to move faster.

"You leave her alone!" His brother warned loudly. The nurse laughed.

"Oh, her. You wouldn't believe how many times I've dealt with her. The little halfblood can't seem to help herself. Mmm, she's in _so much pain_. I don't even need to kill her. I can taste her just by walking into the room. Besides, she's safe. For now. At least, until she outlives her usefulness." Dean snarled in determination, the last few words of the wraith propelling him the last few feet.

He burst into the room, looking wildly around. He spotted the nurse hovering over Sam's strapped down body, Anna thrown limply to the side. Dean's vision began to blur red as he spotted a trickle of blood running down from a cut on her forehead. He holds up the silver knife offensively, readying himself to fight her again.

"Get away from them." He warned darkly. The wraith laughed derisively.

"Do you really think this is gonna end well for you, kiddo?" It asked as it stood to face Dean. He shrugged, letting the crazy fill his eyes as he tipped his head sideways. A small smile slid across his face.

"No. But I'm crazy, so, what the hell?" He lunged forward, the silver blade swinging wildly. but the wraith ducked under his swing and tossed him into the wall. He fell to the ground with a grunt, the knife clattering out of his hand. The nurse grabbed his arm, and with supernatural strength threw him across the room. Sam surged up against his restraints, fighting to get off the bed.

"Dean!" He cried out desperately. Dean rolled under the next hit, struggling to reach for the silver knife glinting on the floor just out of reach. The wraith grabbed him by the foot, yanking him back viciously. Pulling him up, she shoved him into the wall hard enough to leave a dent, plaster flaking to the floor. The wraith brought up its' hand, the skewer re-emerging from her wrist. With one hand he clutched at the hand choking him, the other he brought up in a desperate attempt to keep the wraith from killing him. Out the corner of his eyes, he noticed that Anna wasn't on the floor anymore. He couldn't see the silver knife anymore either. He grabbed the skewer that was nearly touching his forehead, and wrenched it to the side as hard as he could.

With a horrible scream, the pointed barb broke off, the wraith stumbling back as blood poured out of the broken and ruined appendage. She turned around to flee, only to be confronted with Anna, silver eyes flashing with a lucidity Dean didn't think she was capable of. With an inarticulate scream, the wraith attacked; but Anna was more than a match for the injured monster. With an almost terrifying ease, she parried every blow before plunging the blade into the wraith's chest. The nurse stumbled back, her disguise burning away quickly, leaving behind nothing more than a strange smell and flaking grey skin on the ground. Dean's vision cleared instantly, his mind following quickly after. The difference was amazing; he hadn't even realized how off he felt until the last of the wraith's influence vanished.

Anna dropped the knife, her eyes losing some of it's focus as she turned to untie Sam. Dean rushed to help her.

"You still crazy?" Sam asked warily, as one wrist came free. Dean shrugged as he watched Anna switch to freeing his brother's foot.

"Not any more than usual." He glanced around the trashed room, then at Anna who had sunk down against the floor now that Sam was half free. Her whole was shaking and she seemed to be mumbling under her breath. Grey eyes flicked around the room warily, fear filling her eyes.

"We gotta get her out of here." Sam nodded, swinging his body off the bed, looking down at the shaking body of their friend. It was a terrifyingly heartbreaking change, watching her go from the powerful hunter she was, back to crazy town.

"Yeah. Come on." An alarm went off, and Anna flinched, scuttling away into a corner, shaking as she stared at the open door with terror written across her face. Dean felt something inside him tear at seeing her so afraid. Rage filled him as he scooped her up into his arms, following Sam out of his room. He could feel that her once strong body was wasted away under the thin hospital uniform. He would kill the demon that did this to her. Even if he had to climb back into hell itself to do so.


	13. Chapter 13

_Sam_

He paused for a moment, watching Dean gently settle Anna into the backseat of the Impala; the once powerful and self assured hunter shaking in fear, grey eyes wide and staring at some danger only she could see. She was mumbling a string of unintelligible words, that sounded familiar; but Sam couldn't identify why. He ached inside for his friend, for the person she used to be.

Dean was so gentle as he carefully buckled Anna into her seat, making sure the belt didn't ruck up her shirt, carefully tucking long hair behind her ears. His brother made it seem so easy, to say no. To push away the burning rage he felt more and more frequently. But it wasn't as simple as pushing it away. Sam had tried that already. But he knew he would follow Dean, always.

Sam sighed and got into the car, but quickly twisting his body around to check on Anna when the backseat went silent. Her posture had gone ramrod straight, and her general countenance seemed to mirror that of a prisoner going to their execution. Rigid back, stoney face, slight tremors of fear racking her body. Dean started up the car, the Impala's engine turning over with its familiar roar. Sam relaxed instantly at the sound; the familiarity of the ritual calming him. Oddly enough, it seemed to do the same for Anna. Suddenly, a thought struck him.

"Dean?" Sam asked his brother urgently. Dean glanced over at him as he pulled the car out onto the highway.

"What are we going to say to _Bobby?"_


	14. Chapter 14

_Dean_

He took a long swing of his beer.

He was sitting in another nameless dive bar in a long string of dive bars along the highway; filled with the same drunken locals and the same tired bartender who didn't give a shit about what was going on inside the bar as long as the drunks paid their tab and nothing broke. He didn't know _what_ to do. Sammy was in the motel room with Anna, coaxing her into fresh clothing and getting her into bed. They'd stolen extra stores of her medication on the way out of the hospital, and he'd left it to his brother to figure out what to give her. Dean internally raged that he wasn't making sure she was fine himself, but another more cowardly part of him needed to escape.

To get away from _her_. No, not her, to get away from what she reminded him of.

It made him feel incredibly guilty, but once he'd pulled her out of the hospital he couldn't bring himself to even look at her. Long repressed memories just kept crashing down on him. The way she'd laugh, the low rumbled of her motorcycle, the way her whole body was weapon. How she used to look so tired after cases involving kids, or how her monster knowledge rivaled his dad's or how her smile would light up his day. How she saved his and Sammy's asses more than once, the way she would carefully stitch him back together after he'd get hurt or how infuriatingly hard it was to get her to let him do the same.

Then the less good memories came. Dean took another long pull of beer even as he tried to block it out. The way her face had glowed in the light of hellfire. The way she screamed in pain as she was tortured. The way her blood flowed wet and sticky over his hands. The way she'd looked when she'd fallen over that ledge; when he'd seen her last. Into the final circle of Hell.

Her body had still been alive down there, Dean remembered. It had been warm, with a beating heart and blood had pumped through her veins. He shuddered at the memories.

In Hell, all he'd been was a soul. Sure he'd had the feelings of a body, and sometimes he even looked like it too. His shade would regain form so that Alastair could hurt him over and over and over again. Hurt him until Dean's soul got off the rack and took up the blade himself. At first he'd tell himself it was all imaginary, that he couldn't hurt because he was nothing more than a ghost; nobody to harm. But as time passed and the pain increased it got harder and harder to say no. Then the hallucinations came. Visions of Sam dying; of Anna being hurt. Phantom whispers of his dad saying he should have let him die, whispers of all the people he couldn't save murmuring accusations into his soul. When he'd first seen Anna he had thought she was nothing more than yet another in a long, painful, line of hallucinations.

But then, she'd cut him free. And together they had fled through the halls of Hell looking for the exit. An exit he didn't think existed. But he'd gone anyways because it was Anna and he trusted her with every ounce of his being.

Dean took another long drink from the beer bottle, glaring into the nearly empty bottle. He waved at the bartender to bring him another beer. He picked up the bottle and moved to a booth as the next set of memories washed over him.

They'd gotten caught the first time. And the second and third and fourth and the twentieth. But they kept trying; exhaustion slowly overtaking them, but Anna never looked any less determined to make it back to the surface. Overtime the demons had learned to move their cells further and further apart; made it harder for them to get away. He knew Anna broke out nearly everyday since the first capture. And that she could escape without him. That no matter how tired or injured _she_ was, _Dean_ was the reason they never got away. Then one day, Alastair dragged her back to him in chains, half dead. He gritted his teeth as he flashed back to that horrible day.

* * *

 _He slumped in his chains. Oddly enough nothing had happened to him that day; nothing at all. And it put him on edge. The waiting was almost worse than the inevitable pain. Then he heard the clanking of chains, and the sound of a dragging body. The door to his own personal torture chamber flew open, leaving the terror inducing form of Alastair framed in the light of the hellfire just outside. Dean couldn't find the energy to move his head. With a soft grunt, the chained body was thrown the ground in front of him._

 _Dean felt his imaginary heart stop._

 _Anna sprawled across the floor, covered in blood. Bronze chains that glowed wound around her body like sick jewelry. Her arm was clearly broken in at least two places, and she had a long slash running down her cheek. His non existent breath (it was a habit that his soul never seemed to shake) caught in his throat when he finally finally saw her chest rise and fall with her shallow breathing._

 _She was still alive._

 _Dean had never really believed in God. Not with everything he'd seen. But he sure as hell believed in the devil; after all Dean seemed to be his favorite guest. And here was a new way for the devil to hurt him._

* * *

Dean dragged his mind away from the memories. He knew what happened next. He knew that Alastair would take Dean down, let him slump against the wall as Anna was chained in his place. How he was left untouched for days as Alastair tortured her in his stead for unending hours. It just went on and on and on until Dean finally said yes. She'd screamed at him to say no, begged him not to touch her, to let Alistair hurt her for him.

But Dean couldn't take it. It should have been the right thing to do, take the blade himself so when she hurt, it would hurt that much less. But somehow she'd taken that away, fear and hopeless defeat had filled her.

And in the end, the gesture had been pointless anyways. After that first day or torture, of him taking that fucking blade to her, he never saw her again. Not until she tried to rescue him that final time. Not until they made it to the very edge of the Pit, the one she called Tartarus. All they had to do was cross the narrow gap between the horrible gravitational like pull of Tartarus and the Final Circle of Hell. But Alastair caught them, and gave Dean a choice. One of them would have to fall. And when he picked himself; the demons shoved Anna into Tartarus. She hadn't screamed when she fell, just looked up at him as she disappeared from view.

Into the lowest reaches of hell, where not even demons always returned from.

And it had been _his fault_.

Anna had warned him before he made his deal that there would be a price to pay. And that he wouldn't be the only one to pay it when his debt came due. Anna had halved his price, taking it onto herself. There was nothing he could do to change that. And Anna had paid, with more than her life.

Dean took another swing of his beer only to find that it was empty. He stood up, tossing down enough cash to cover his tab before stumbling out to his car. No way he was driving back tonight. Not in this state. He dragged out the extra blanket he kept in the car, and wadded up his jacket to use as a pillow before crashing. He was asleep even before his head hit his coat.


	15. Chapter 15

_Sam_

She sat quietly on the motel room bed, her back pressed against the wall. She glanced at Sam, her sharp grey eyes more lucid than he'd ever seen her. In the hospital, as soon as the wraith died, he had felt the influence of the monster vanish instantly. But Anna had been under its thrall for _months_ ; on top of having escaped Hell. Who knew how long it would take before she returned to any semblance of normal.

It didn't help that Dean had vanished almost as soon as they'd paid for their room, leaving Sam alone to deal with the crazy hunter. His brother seemed to have a calming influence on Anna. Now that Dean was gone (probably to a bar Sam thought bitterly) she'd grown agitated again.

He sat down slowly on the edge of the bed, her hospital chart in his hand. He was no doctor, but he knew enough to understand the chart inside. Reading it would help him figure out exactly what cocktail of mood stabilizers, anti-anxiety medication and other medications that he didn't even know _what_ they were for, she should take. But he didn't want look at it without her knowledge unless he absolutely had too. Anna has always been intensely private, often to the point of paranoia. Now that she was back, Sam didn't want to deny her that privacy when she was in no place to defend it herself.

"Anna?" He broached quietly. The other hunter didn't move, just watched him through wary eyes. But he noticed her tense when he reached towards the bag containing the pilfered medication. Knowing how deadly she could be, and having no clue how stable she was at the moment, he backed up slowly. He didn't know how much of her crazy came from her time in Hell and how much was the residual effect of a wraith screwing with her mind for months on end.

Sam moved slowly, not unlike how he would approach a skittish animal, his hands spread wide to prove he was unarmed and harmless.

"Anna, do you know where you are?" He asked her softly. The only sign that she was listening was that her eyes followed his movements, otherwise she remained still and silent.

"Anna it's Sam. Do you remember me?" He asked her quietly. Still nothing. He'd moved up close enough that he could touch her if he wanted to. He didn't.

"Anna can I sit?" He asked her quietly. She blinked slowly, eyes flicking from his face to the chair next to the bed. He lowered himself down slowly, watching her every move. When he was fully seated he leaned forward a little, keeping his hands firmly over his knees. Sam never broke eye contact. He was at a loss for what to do, but he knew he had to keep trying.

"Anna, do you know where you are?" He asked her again, watching as her eyes finally moved away from him, flitting around the room. There was an odd lack of depth to her expression. Anna had always been hard to read, her expressions carefully guarded. But calling her hard to read wasn't right anymore, she was simply _blank_. Empty. Taking in information but she had no idea how to put the pieces together to form a conclusion. She was nothing like the Anna he used to know.

"Anna-" She interrupted him, her voice toneless and flat.

"Motel. Somewhere in Oklahoma, USA. Not Hell." She immediately lapsed back into silence. Her gaze fixed on the wall in front of her. Sam straightened up suddenly. According to absolutely everyone in that damned hospital, Anna hadn't spoken a word in months. Not since she'd been found. But she was perfectly coherent. At least she seemed like it. As he paid her closer attention, he noticed her hands were gripping each other so tightly that her knuckles were white. Even though she looked relaxed, he noticed small signs of tension running through her body as she shook with light tremors. She was ready to move in a heartbeat. Her eyes were determinedly fixed on a stretch of wall slightly to the left, avoiding looking at Sam or the mirror that hung directly in front of her. She might be pretending to be calm, but Anna was even more tense now than she'd been at the hospital.

"Anna, you're safe. Not in Hell. I promise." Sam told her quietly. Anna went stock still and so did he. Sam hadn't realized that he'd been shifting closer to her. He settled back in his seat and she relaxed. The movement was so small that he nearly didn't notice.

"Anna, I'm going to move off the chair ok? I'm not going to hurt you." He told her as he started to move. Anna looked stressed but didn't do anything else, watching him out the corner of her eye, but never at him directly. He knelt on the floor next to the bed, making himself smaller; or as much smaller as he could. He was now just about eye level with her.

"Anna, can I hold your hand?" He asked her quietly. He lifted his hand onto the bed, palm up, leaving her the choice to initiate contact. Anna tensed but Sam refused to move. She reached out a shaking hand, lowering it slowly until her hand hovered just above his own. Her palm was so close to his that he could feel her body heat. But as soon as he shifted to take her hand, something in her changed. Her once lucid eyes emptied and she let out a feral snarl.

Anna vaulted over the bed and made a break for the door. Sam lunged after her. It wasn't safe for her to be out and about on her own, and he knew that if she wanted to lose him, Sam would never catch her; no matter how crazy she was. He beat her to the door, slamming his body in front of it. Anna backed away as Sam approached, her eyes darting all over the place; frantic. She skittered backwards but Sam stayed far back, letting her gain the space she needed. He held his hands out in front of him, trying to calm her down again.

"Anna, do you know where we are? Anna you're in a motel room, in Oklahoma remember? Anna?" He asked her softly, trying to ground her in reality. She was panicking, and based on the violent twitching, she was terrified. Anna scuttled backwards into a corner, another vicious snarl emerging from her lips. All semblance of humanity had faded from her, leaving nothing but a cornered animal behind. He stayed far back, not wanting to spook her into attacking him. He crouched down to her level, trying to show her that he was safe. That she could trust him, that she was safe.

"Anna you're safe. You aren't there anymore. Anna, come back." He pleaded with her even as she whipped her body around and slashed out with her hands to battle an invisible attacker. She whirled around the room fluidly, shifting from one battle style to another to another to another, eventually evolving into something he didn't recognize at all. Sam felt entirely helpless, because he had no idea how to reach her. Then something in the back of his mind sparked.

"Anna." He called, approaching at an angle so that she would see him coming. She didn't even flinch, instead maneuvering him into a defensive position as she crouched at the ready for monsters that only existed in her mind. But she never fully turned her back to him, alway keeping him in the peripherals of her vision. Sam tried again.

"Anna." He said forcefully. She stiffened, her eyes flicking to him.

"You're safe now. You saved us. You even managed to save Dean from his deal. Now you're home. You can go home to the junkyard in Sioux Falls to see Bobby or go to New York and see Nico if you want. Anna, you're _home_. It's over." Lucidity bled back into her eyes. She stood up straight, shaking slightly.

"Sam?" She asked shakily. He nodded encouragingly.

"Yeah Anna. It's me."

"Sam? No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no…. You can't be here. I _saved_ you. You can't be here." Tears welled up in her eyes, as she reached out to him, hands running over his face, shoulders and sides as though trying to deny to herself that he was real.

"Anna, I'm here. But you aren't in Hell anymore. You got out." He insisted. Anna shook as tears rolled down her face.

"No, no it can't be. There's no way out. The Doors are gone and I can't access the tunnels. I'm not a monster you see, Sam, I'm not allowed to leave that way. Oh, Sam you aren't really here are you? I'm just crazy and Mr. D isn't here to fix me anymore. No, no no no no no no no no. I climbed and climbed and climbed Sammy, up and up and up but no one escapes Tartarus through Hades domain. You have to be a monster to go without the Doors. I'm a half blood with nowhere to turn." She started to ramble, and Sam sat her back down on the bed letting her talk. He didn't understand any of what she was talking about, but she had realized that he was real, or at least, that he wasn't a threat to her. He glanced down at the pile of medications. She needed them, desperately, and he didn't have the time or the energy to gain her permission anymore. He opened the file.

Sam's eyes widened as he took in the pages and pages of notes the doctors had made. On her physical condition, on the little they were able to judge of her mental state. The speculations on what had happened to her. He felt a little sick as he catalogued the injuries the institution had found on her. The faded scars and the damaged muscles and the signs of torture.

Dean had come back practically pristine. The only mark on his body upon his return from Hell was the glowing red hand print seared into his sick where Cas had held onto his soul. Anna was not. Sam swallowed hard and flipped to the back, and checked the medicine schedule. He quickly shook out the requisite pills into his palm and slowly slowly cajoled her into taking them. Not to long after, Anna fell asleep, the medication taking affect.

He settled back into his chair. He remembered that Anna had violent nightmares, and that at the hospital they'd strapped her to the bed. Sam wasn't about to do that. Anna was a better fighter than him, smarter and faster. And she was strong for her size. But Sam was six foot four inches of muscle, and he had the brute strength to stop her from hurting herself if he had too.

It was going to be a _long_ night.


	16. Chapter 16

_Dean_

He finally stumbled back into the motel room around noon, his head pounding from the raging hangover he was nursing. He pulled up short when he took in the empty room. Fear began to pulse through his chest as he took in the scene.

It was utterly destroyed. Lamps overturned on the ground, the bed broken. Long scratches were torn into the wall. The mirror over the dresser was shattered. Blood on the floor.

Someone had put up one hell of a fight. And now Sam and Anna were gone. Dean raced through the room, hunting for any sign of where they might have gone, who might have taken them. Sam's bag was still stuffed under the bed, Dean's duffel crushed by a chair that had fallen on its side. The things they'd stolen for Anna were scattered across the bathroom counter top. Her medical file was gone though. Dean burst out of the room, a prayer on the tip of his tongue when he spotted a battered and bruised Sam carefully walking Anna through the motel parking lot.

Hangover forgotten he raced over to them, relief rushing through him.

"What the hell happened?" He asked roughly, as he made a quick scan of his baby brother, before turning his scrutinizing gaze over to Anna. She didn't seem to be injured almost at all, just bruised with a bloody set of knuckles. She had a small cut on her cheek, but it had already been bandaged over. Sam had the worst of it, dark bruises blooming out from underneath the edges of his clothing. Anna was holding an ice cream cone, while Sam carried a box of take out under his arm.

"Nothing Dean." Sam said exasperatedly.

"That shiner you're sporting isn't nothing Sammy." Dean reprimanded gently, as the three of them walked into the room. Dean made sure to bolt it shut before pushing Sam down onto the bed. He grabbed his kid brother's chin, tilting his face from left to right before turning towards their first aid kit and digging out the tube of arnica. He handed it to Sam before turning to Anna.

She was standing passively besides them, the ice cream slowly beginning to melt into the napkin. He approached her slowly, and she let him push her down into a seated position on the bed too. He also checked her over, moving slowly and gently as he rolled up her sleeves and carefully began to take care of her battered hands.

"C'mon Sammy. Spill it. What happened in here. I get back and it looks like somebody was nearly murdered in here." Dean asked, dabbing antiseptic onto the torn skin. The sting of it made her tense, but otherwise she allowed him to bandage her up.

"Nothing happened Dean. I brought her in here and took care of her. That's it. The real question is, where the he... where were _you?_ Anna needs both of us right now and you just took off." Sam said shortly, exiting the bathroom, pulling his shirt back down over bruises Dean hadn't seen.

"I went out for a bit. Needed to think." Dean replied defensively. He finished taping her hands, but didn't let go of her. He still couldn't believe she was actually back.

"About what Dean? What was so goddamn important inside that thick skull of yours that you abandoned her? After everything she did for us, what she did for _you_. What was so _important?"_ Sam snarled at him. Dean felt a slight flinch and gently let go on Anna, standing up slowly and turning to face his brother.

"Not here Sammy." He glanced down at Anna, who was shaking slightly, her eyes glazed over. Sam immediately backed down, but the look in his eyes said that their conversation was far from over. Dean had told Sam about Hell, his time in it. But never all the details, never the full truth. Never what he did to Anna, not the price she paid for him.

He wasn't looking forward to telling him. And Dean knew he was running out time to tell Sam himself.

Soon, Dean promised himself. He'd tell Sammy soon.


	17. Chapter 17

_Anna_

She opened her eyes to the familiar grey ceiling of the Impala. She'd been with the boys for just under a week. She was glad that her visions tended to warp time more than Tartarus already did. She wanted to savor this time she had with them.

The last vision, the hospital was too much for her to bear, so she'd tried to interact with it as little as possible. But her time in Hell, then in Tartarus, was shattering her mind, and lucidity was harder and harder to come by. By the end of the hospital hallucination, she was struggling to remember that she wasn't actually in the world of the living. That her reality was dangerous and filled with acidic air, flaming water and monsters coming after her from every direction, at all hours.

Anna knew she was crazy. The daughter of Athena was clinically self aware in that respect. But what she couldn't handle was the questioning of her world. She was crazy, but not so much so that her whole identity was gone. She was a demigod. Not an insane mortal. Right?

Her hallucination had temporarily broken, an attack of monsters sending her into a collision of battle. The only thing that confused her was the fact that Eleos was missing. The loss of her sword was crippling, especially because she couldn't remember losing it. But like always, she'd survived, scavenging weapons from anything she could lay her hands on and managed to kill the last monster by stabbing it through the chest. Then she dragged herself to a new hiding place where she could be safe. Anna was tired, and had allowed herself to sink back into her mind rather than fighting off her visions.

That was when Sam had appeared in front of her. He'd been _in Tartarus_ with her. And it was all wrong. She went _to_ her visions, not the other way around. It had been that way ever since the bright light she'd climbed and fought through ages ago. It had been hot and cold and bright. It had been clean but also tainted, both salvation and damnation. It had burned her with sensations when she'd gone through it. Anna doesn't remember much of what she saw on the other side of it though. The hospital delusion had started up not too long after the light, and besides there had been that cloudy cotteny feeling in her head. It had been hard to think for a while. Then the Winchester brothers had hijacked her dream, and the feeling had slowly begun to drain away. Ever since the last monster attack, she'd been feeling more and more herself again.

She knew that however long it had been since she fell had twisted her, broken her psyche.

She resolved to visit with Eris once this next bought of hallucinations broke. The goddess of discord had been delighted by the turmoil Anna caused simply by surviving the monstrous pit for as long as she had. The goddess had even guided her to the relative safety of a swamp. She only had to worry about killing a drakon once a day and keep guard over the two rising golden bubbles within the massive abandoned hut. She'd been warned against destroying whatever was reforming inside there, and because she didn't have a massive death wish, she listened to Eris.

Music washed over her as the last vestiges of her dream faded away. It had been an odd dream, nothing more than vague flashes of iridescent light and harsh cries in a language she didn't understand or even recognize. It just sounded old. Which was strange, because she spoke even the ancient languages now. She'd spent far too much time blindfolded in the palace of Nyx not too.

She scoffed out loud as she recalled her time in the Palace of Night.

 _'Tourist.'_ She thought scornfully. Meeting the primordial embodiment of night had been a strange experience. She'd been utterly delighted that she and her children had been added to the tour of Tartarus. Honestly, the things Annabeth comes up with. The goddess said she'd even renovated her palace to include a hotel. Anna was a less than consenting guest for a period of time. But it had also been one of the safer spaces she'd lived in in the pit. It helped that she'd named her favorite weapon after one of Nyx's children, flattering the ancient goddess.

"Morning sunshine." Dean called back softly to her. Anna looked over to the elder Winchester brother. She wanted to let herself get dragged into the dream, to embrace the vision. But Anna also knew if she did, that was a good way to get killed. And Anna wasn't going to die until she found a way out. Not if she could help it.

Having the brothers back, even if it was just inside an insane hallucination, was simultaneously heartbreaking and motivating. They looked so different. Dean was missing that scar on his face, and his whole expression had grown harsher, and he'd grown more tired. Sam's hair was longer, the bangs gone. It still hung in his eyes though. He'd lost the little kid look, less of a puppy dog. Both of her friends looked like they'd gone a few rounds with the universe and lost. It was strange, because before the light, she'd always seen them they way they'd looked before she'd jumped.

"Hungry Anna?" Sam asked, already holding up a bag of take out. She silently took it from him, opening up the bag and looking inside. It contained the usual grocery store breakfast sandwich they gave her every morning. She was grateful to her subconscious for not picking something she actually loved. She couldn't take it if they'd given her something like pancakes or blueberries and have it turned to ash in her mouth. She just picked at the edges of the cardboard tasting bread. She set it aside quickly.

"You gotta eat Anna. You're skin and bones." Sam chided her softly, watching through the rearview mirror. Obediently she picked up the sandwich again, taking another bite before setting it aside. She swallowed, not really tasting anything. She looked outside the window, enjoying the lack of red sky and acid air. It felt _so real._ The blue skies, and the cool rain, and the sweet smell of grass. Even the harsh smell of gasoline was better than the poisonous air of Tartarus. They'd been driving for days, staying in the car for only a few hours at a time, moving slowly. The boys kept stopping, pulling over into the sunshine and convincing her to get out of the car. They waded in an ice cold river, hiked up a hill, saw some silly roadside attractions. They took her on picnics, they snuck into a little county fair and went to go and pet some goats in the petting zoo. The other night they watched the sunset, sitting on the hood of the Impala. Anna liked those moments. She didn't like stopping in the towns so much. Never sure if the people around her were part of the hallucinations or were monsters. She was sure she'd caught sight of one or two, but so far nothing had been an issue. She tilted her head to the side, observing distantly the passing scenery.

She sits up suddenly. It wasn't just trees and grass and fields and cows they've driving past. They were driving through South Dakota. They were taking her to Bobby.

"No." She says forcefully. The car stalls for a moment, before resuming its previous smooth forward moment.

"No." She insists again, trying to grab control of her vision. It's what she did whenever her head tried to take her someplace she didn't want to go. Bobby was one of those. Camp was another. She only let herself stay with the boys this time out of weakness. The boys were to transitory, always on the move. It hurt less that way to see them. People were ok, and Anna had grown lonely in the years she'd spent alone in the Pit. She missed the world above. But she knew seeing a place she thought of as home would break her completely. She would finally die.

 _"No."_ She insisted again, gripping her hands in her hair. It was clean, for the first time in a long time. She'd had it washed during the hospital dream, but with the boys she'd gotten nicer soap for some reason. So it was soft.

 _'Off topic.'_ She scolded herself. She was focusing, trying to retreat from the dream. She'd always been able to leave before. But now, she couldn't. She was stuck.

"No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no." She chanted to herself softly, shaking her head. She was rocking, her whole world shifting from beneath her. Air stuttered out from her lungs in sharp uneven movements as Anna started to hyperventilate. She was suddenly aware of the fact that the car was pulled over, and both of the brothers were with her.

"Anna, Anna what's wrong?" Sam was asking her gently, even as Dean carefully navigated her out of the car. She was gently settled on the ground, her legs stretched out in front of her. Sam was holding her arms above her head, opening her airways up. Dean crouched directly in front of her, gently instructing her to breath, demonstrating slowly. Anna matched him as best she could, yanking her hands out of Sam's grip. The fear and panic beating wildly in her chest settled.

The final remnants of the fog she'd been living under since being moved into the hospital suddenly lifted. Clarity broke through her clouded head, like a lightning strike, and she let out a broken sob, pulling herself away from her friends, unsteadily getting to her feet. She held her arms out in front of her, studying the way sunlight filtered through the air. Light danced on her skin, her unhealthily pale skin glowed red as light filtered through the blood vessels in her finger tips. She spun around to face Sam and Dean. Tears streamed down her face.

"This is real." She whispered roughly. A statement. _Fact_. Hope bloomed in her chest, a burning sensation inside of her as she looked to her friends. A cautious smile broke out over Dean's face.

"Yeah, Anna. Yeah it is."

"I'm out?" She asked in wonder, her knees weak beneath her and she collapsed onto the gravel they'd pulled over onto.

"Anna!" She ignored the two concerned cries as she ran her hands through the stones, ignoring the mildly uncomfortable feeling of gravel digging into her knees. She sobbed as she let the dirt fall through her fingers, even as she turned to look in wonder at the grass growing in the field they pulled over next to.

"Oh, gods. Oh gods. I'm out. I'm out. I'm out." She sobbed, even as laughter rippling out of her chest. She looked up at her friends.

"You're real?" She whispered to them, hands over her mouth, her breathing stuttering out of her chest unevenly. She didn't even wait for them to answer. She just launched herself into their arms, hugging them tightly to herself.

She'd done it. She was _free_.


	18. Chapter 18

_Dean_

After Anna's initial outburst, she'd sobered quickly. She'd insisted that they turn the car around, and head straight back to Wyoming.

"Why Wyoming?" Dean asked her through gritted teeth. He avoided the state when he could, for obvious reasons. He would have expected Anna to feel the same way. He avoided going anywhere near where he'd been killed and resurrected at all costs. Anna glanced up, her face scrunched in concentration.

"That's where I came back. Woke up under the rubble of the Devil's Gate. It's a blur, mostly because I had just climbed through an interdimensional gateway, but also partly because I thought I was hallucinating the entire time. But I remember leaving Eleos there. I think" Anna said, her expression growing dark with frustration as she tried to grasp at the holes in her mind.

Dean didn't press her for more details beyond that. He remembered coming back from Hell. She would talk when she was ready.

Dean's thoughts paused for a moment, as he realized that she probably wouldn't. Anna was even worse than him about not talking about the important stuff. And _he_ had only talked about it after Sam had pushed at him for _weeks_. Her gaze had wandered out the window, her forehead furrowed in concentration.

Something about his friend still seemed off. She might have realized that the world around her was real, that she was no longer in Hell. But Anna was still flinching, her eyes flicking into the shadows in suspicion. She'd almost entirely lost her ability to lie. Every emotion she felt was on her face, and Dean could practically read her thoughts just by glancing in the mirror. It was unsettling.

He'd once wished for her to be less guarded, during a djinn induced dream. But never like this. Not because she'd been torn open, pulled inside out and now had no idea how to even begin putting herself back together. Dean glanced at the road signs. They'd been driving for several hours now, the longest stretch they'd gone in days. He and Sam hadn't wanted to cage Anna in the car for more than an hour or two at a time, and the ten hour drive to Sioux Falls had turned into a three day saga. Now, they would arrive at the destroyed Devil's Gate within the next ten minutes.

He pulled over, stopping the car at the train tracks. He and Sam got out of the car, and Anna followed suit after a long moment. She was hesitant, and Dean saw the fear in her expression.

"What if I fall again?" She asked softly. Dean curled an arm around her, hugging her into his side.

"Won't let that happen." He stated confidently.

"What if I have too?" She asked suddenly straightening, her eyes filled with an odd determination.

"Still wouldn't let that happen." He insisted, uncomfortable with the sudden fire that had filled her eyes.

"Why'd you have to Anna?" Sam asked her. Anna shrugged Dean's arm off of her, as she strode off. Something about the question seemed to temporarily resurrect the old Anna, her old confidence straightening her shoulders and purpose infusing every step. They all walked across the graveyard, Dean and Sam both carrying weapons while Anna seemed confident and unafraid. She reached the spot where the Devil's Gate used to be, and after only a brief moment of hesitation, frantically began to dig. He and Sam glanced at each other once before dropping to their knees to help.

They dug and dug until Sam found an empty black scabbard, worn and damaged. Anna let out a triumphant cry as she picked up a single gold ring. Dean found a couple more, and she slid them on, one by one. She flexed her hand, and deadly sharp looking claws shot out from the metal around her fingers. Eventually they managed to excavate the whole pile, and there was nothing left. Neither of her guns, or the second half of her ring set or any of her other weapons.

No sword.

Anna seemed unperturbed though. She took the scabbard from Sam and carefully slung it over her shoulder. Dean's eyes widened. The sword was there. In the scabbard. That had been empty thirty seconds ago. Dean's hand twitches violently towards his gun at the blatant display of magic.

"What in the _hell_ was that?" He snarled suddenly. Anna's eyes widened with fear, and suddenly she grew very tense. Her hand twitched towards her weird ass sword, and her expression shut down. It was like Anna was leaving the building. Her expression was emptying out, horrifyingly similar to how she had looked while she'd been in the hospital. Before they'd broken through to her.

Something inside him died, even as another part stiffened his resolve. Clearly, Anna had more to go than just the destruction of the wraith. On the other hand, she was dangerous, and clearly had access to some kind of mojo. Which placed her in the possible target category.

"Dean." Sam warned him softly, putting his gun down. Dean couldn't quite bring himself to follow suit, but slowly lowered his own weapon. Non threatening. Right.

"Anna, Anna, can you come back to us? You're out, remember?" Sam asked softly. Anna stalked forward, reaching back and smoothly unsheathing the bitterly familiar sword as she moved. Dean glanced down at his gun. Then he checked Sam's. The shotgun in his brother's hand was loaded with rock salt. His was loaded with bullets. If it came down to it, Sam would shoot first. His eyes flicked up to his brother's face. Sam got the message, and his expression was grim.

"Anna, you're safe ok? We're not going to hurt you." Sam tried cajoling again.

Something in her expression broke. The sword dropped to the ground and the claws vanished. Anna collapsed to the ground, her shoulders shaking. Dean took Sam's gun and they both approached her cautiously. She was laughing, giggling, snorting _laughing_. She was laughing so hard tears streamed down her face, but when her voice hitched wetly; Dean realized that their half crazed mojo sword wielding _friend_ was also crying.

"Anna?" It came out like a question. It wasn't supposed too. She just laughed and cried a little more, shaking her head.

"Do it." She said, nodding to the guns. She rose up on her knees, arms spread wide. Offering them the shot.

"I promise bullets will work." She sobbed and laughed. Dean lowered his gun and tucked it away. He couldn't shoot her. He'd known that in the back of his head already, but when she'd offered herself up like a sacrificial lamb, it cemented it. The core part of him that once sold his soul for his brother shifted, and suddenly Dean realized that Anna had somehow fallen into the category as Sammy. He would die before letting her get hurt, let alone kill her.

Anna kicked her weapons away from herself, eyes widening in wild desperation.

"Do it. Do it now, before I remember, before I fight. Because we all know who's going to win." She half begged them.

"C'mon Dean. Finish the job. You can do it. It'll be quick. Quicker than time moved while we were running. Promise. Won't even feel a thing, right here." Anna tapped the center of her forehead, grey eyes looking up at him, tears spilling over, rolling down her cheeks. Dean stepped back in horror, unsure of how to react. They'd put people down before, witches, werewolves. Things that used to be people, vampires and demons. But this was different. Anna might have weird mojo that Dean doesn't trust, but he also wouldn't hurt her. Couldn't.

"Anna, no." Sam said softly. There weren't words to describe the sudden panic filling Dean. If this wasn't a trick, if this was Anna, he didn't want to hear those words coming from her lips. But if it was a monster, he wouldn't be able to gank it. No, not with all the weird little reminders and flashbacks that he was finding in their lives that made him want to cling to her so tightly she could never leave them again.

Anna let out another choked laugh, the crazed sound slowly being swallowed by the tears pouring down her face.

"They warned me. When I agreed to figure this out. To look for Azazel. To destroy this gate. When I joined you. They said I would die. _Yes Sammy_. C'mon Short Stuff. I didn't die like I was supposed too then. Let's make it right. Right here. Where I should have gone _._ " Anna's eyes were slowly losing their lucidity, and her tears were slowing. Soon enough all that sat in front of them was the same empty shell they'd rescued from the hospital.

No he wasn't going to kill her. But he sure as hell was going to find out what the hell was going on with her. The time for secrets had more than passed. The end is nigh, and they can't afford to be hiding anything.

Not even Dean. He knew that he'd run out of time to tell Sam what had really happened in Hell.


	19. Chapter 19

_Sam_

They were holed up in another random motel. Anna was docile and compliant, sitting obediently when told to, taking the medicine Sam handed her, eating the food they set in front of her. All her weapons were in the back of the Impala, locked up tightly, the mojo sword sitting inside a Devil's Trap made up of salt as an extra precaution.

Now she was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the wall while the two brothers watched her. Dean had made several aborted trips to the beer stash, picking one up only to set it back down again. They had both silently agreed that now was not the time to be drinking.

Sam didn't like the look in Dean's eye. It was that toxic mix of hurt and anger that always lead to his older brother doing something he regrets. Anna sat on the bed, her expression blank. The tear tracks from before and dried into salty trails, and while she was mostly compliant, Anna wasn't letting either of them near enough to touch her either.

Dean paced around the room again, looking for all the world like a caged animal. The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a dull knife. Sam couldn't take it anymore. He grabbed Dean and shoved him out the door, following behind his brother. Enough was more than enough. They'd double checked that she was human, but that wasn't really the problem at hand. No, the issue was that they knew nothing about her, and now that her sword had mojo, and what little they'd known before wasn't good enough anymore. Not for Dean, and even Sam was hesitant. But the expression on Dean's face, the nervous energy wasn't just about Anna. Or at least not in the sense Sam was right now.

And Sam was done waiting for Dean to just spit it out.

"What the hell is going on Dean?" Sam snarled. His brother ignored him, staring down at the ground, arms folded tightly across his chest as he leaned against the Impala.

"We don't know anything about her!" Dean burst out, green eyes glaring at him balefully.

"So what! She's saved our asses more times than I want to count, and now she needs our help! So what if her sword is a little weird. We talk to Bobby, and he'll tell us if we gotta destroy the sword. But I'd rather find out first, than do it rashly and hurting Anna. That sword means a lot to her. We can't just do things without thinking anymore! That's how we ended up in this mess in the first place!"

"We don't know what she wants!" Dean snapped back, shuffling his feet.

"Bobby trusted her." Sam pointed out.

"Bobby didn't even know she was alive until she showed up at his house three and a half years ago. That's not a good way to know a person Sammy."

"Stop making excuses Dean! Anna isn't _like_ Ruby. She told us a lot of what she knew, didn't ask us to do shit for her, and then jumped into Hell to seal a Devil's Gate. What the hell is going on!" Sam roared, getting right into his brother's face. Dean shoved him back, looking pissed as his fists clenched into tight fists. His brother turned around facing the car, hands clenched into tight fists.

"Because to create a demon you torture a soul until it breaks, then you remake them. Slowly, quickly, by turning them _into_ the torturers Sam. That's what I was on my way to becoming before Cas pulled me out. Because even though Anna got my deal changed, I wasn't strong enough to keep myself from breaking the first seal. And who knows how long they had her for. We don't know if she's turned or changed or a spy or anything else!" Dean snapped, turning away from him. Sam froze.

"I left her down there to _rot_ , and now she's back. We don't know how, or why. We don't know what's in her head, or what's left of her soul. She's not a demon, but for all we know, she could have been pretty damn close to one." Dean's voice had dropped to a rough whisper, guilt filling his expression as he slumped back against the car.

"Your deal. What did Anna do?" Sam croaked, his mind whirling in a thousand different directions, but Dean's deal the most prominent question in his mind.

Silence stretched out between the two brothers for several long minutes. Anxiety and fear and adrenaline collided inside of him, and Sam could hear his heart beat thundering in his ears as he watched his brother struggle to come up with the words to answer him.

"One month for every day you were gone." Dean finally whispered.

"What?" Sam was stunned.

"She traded her for me. She couldn't get me out of it, but somehow she changed it. One month for every day you were gone and then she would replace me. And I would go free. Because she had a way out, or she thought she did. And she was alive while we were down there, so they couldn't have her, but she was in Hell, so she'd fulfilled the terms of agreement. Somehow she'd found a loophole and outmaneuvered the demon deal." Dean took a shaking breath.

"But we were still stuck down there. In Hell. The deal is your soul needed to be in Hell, but the torture isn't part of the contract. So we broke out. Everyday for weeks. Months. _Years._ Sammy, you should have seen her down there. She never gave up, even though they caught us time and time again, dragging us back to the rack over and over and over again. And she'd come right back, breaking me out. Even though she knew that my soul was bound to Hell until my time was up, that she could make a real break for it if she left me behind; but she never did. Until one day, they pulled me down from the rack, and put her on in my place. And they did horrible things to her, all while whispering in my ear that if only I took up the razor, if I hurt her instead, just _one_ _time_ , they would take her down. That if I tortured other souls, they would leave her alone. And I hurt her Sammy. I hurt her. I hurt her in so many ways that day. It might have been less than what they'd would have done to her, but _I_ held that razor and carved it into her body. Her living, bleeding, breathing, breaking _body_. And at the end of that day they took her down. The first seal was broken. I didn't see her again. But I didn't forget what I'd done. Didn't forget how it had felt. It felt good to hurt her. For once to have escaped that rack, with that friggen razor breaking my soul. And I kept going. Going and going and going, soul after soul after soul until she came back for me that last time. And we ran together for what felt like days… we nearly made it out Sammy…. There was this bridge between Hell and, someplace else. But we got caught. And they threw her down into the deepest reaches of Hell and Cas pulled my ass back to the land of the living. One week before the end of my deal."

Sam stumbled back, his breathing stuttering out of his chest unevenly. A rush of adrenaline flows through him, and red crosses his vision.

"Your…. You…. the… you got the deal changed…" He breathed. Sam's shoulder shook as his chest heaved with the force of his breathing. Dean look at him, eyes wide and pleading.

"I didn't know if it was possible… if it was even real Sammy. I didn't… I didn't want to give you any false hope." His brother's voice was uncharacteristically soft. He didn't, _couldn't_ , respond to Dean.

"I did that to her. Who knows what else happened to her… Sam, we can't trust her. We just don't _know_." Den whispered, his voice low and rough. Sam turned away from his brother. If he looked at his brother, if he saw the raw heartbreak on Dean's face that Sam could hear in his voice, Sam wouldn't be mad anymore. And he wanted to be angry.

Angry at Dean for lying to him. For hiding the deal from him, for not being strong enough to not break the first seal, for so many sins. For drinking too much, for not being serious enough, for his never wavering, unending loyalty to their dad and the hunting life. Angry with Anna for keeping so many secrets. For never telling them her plans, for making them grieve her for so damn long, for never trusting them the way they trusted her.

Sam's anger had always been his weakness. Angry, he was more ruthless than Dean and colder than his father.

But with the literal apocalypse coming down on them, Sam's anger was also in the way. His anger had always blinded him to reality. He forced himself to swallow his pride and turned to face his brother.

Dean's cheeks were dry, but his eyes were suspiciously shiny. Sam softened, his anger retreating back into the smoldering coals that seemed to perpetually live in his chest.

"Dean, she's not a demon. She saved us, and she protected you as best she could. We can trust her."

"But what if we can't?" Dean's voice cracked halfway through the sentence. Sam knew that Dean had been more than halfway in love with Anna before her fall into hell three years ago. After his brother had come back from hell, he had charged through his second chance at life with the fury of both their father and Sam combined. His brother had been on the warpath since his return to the surface, but over the last few months Dean's fury had begun to fade as he moved into the next stages of grief.

For Anna to have been so suddenly thrown back into their lives was nothing more than cruel, but she was here now and she needs their help. And they owed her.

"We can. She's a little broken right now, but she's got us. She'll get better." Sam assured him.

"And if she doesn't?" Dean pleaded with him, his brows furrowed deeply. Sam knew Dean was fishing for something specific.

"Then we'll handle that. Doesn't mean we can't trust her."

"What if… What if we have to-"

"No!" Sam cut his brother off, suddenly realizing what Dean was so afraid of.

"Sammy, what if we _have to_?"

"We won't. We won't put her down. Never." Sam growled firmly. Dean relaxed slightly, even though he didn't look entirely convinced. Sam didn't like the uncertainty in his older brother's eyes. It was unnerving to be the one reassuring Dean, to be the one protecting _Dean_ from _his_ fears. Even when they were trying to keep Dean from going to hell it hadn't felt like this. Trying to undo the deal, or watching his brother's back on hunts had always felt natural.

Protecting Dean from something like this, promising him that this girl he liked, _loved_ , was safe, was weird.

A scream pierced the night. Dean and Sam both turned and charged into the motel room towards Anna.

Dean slammed a foot into the door, the wood splintering. Anna stood in the far corner of the room, her eyes wide as she stared into empty air, one arm dripping with blood. There was a low growl and vicious snarling, the sounds making the hair on the back of his neck stand up. When they tried to charge into the room to help her, they collided with an invisible barrier. The familiar snarls coming from the room sent chills crawling down Sam's spine.

The last time they heard that sound, both Ellen and Jo had died.

"Anna! Get out of there!" Dean roared desperately. Sam threw himself against the barrier again. He had no idea what was keeping them out, but Anna wasn't fully lucid and Sam had given her some pretty heavy medication to keep her calm. She was a sitting duck in there.

"Anna!"

"Anna!" They were both screaming her name but she never even looked up. Something invisible sent her flying, slamming her against the back wall of the room. The impact broke the cheap art that had been hanging in the room, tearing open a large hole in the center of the canvas. Deep gouges appeared in the furniture and the walls, shredding wallpaper and sending plaster flying everywhere.

Anna's eyes flicked all over the room. Sam had a sneaking suspicion that she could see the hound. When the next attack came, she ducked and rolled under the invisible blow.

"Hey! Come after me you ugly bitch!" Dean was insulting the hound, trying to lure it from the room. Anything to get it away from the most vulnerable member of their trio.

Sam saw what happened next almost a fraction of a second before it happened. She tensed slightly, then took to steps forward and launched herself into a forward tuck through the air. Twisting around, she landed in between the door and the hound. But instead of making a break for it, Anna promptly leapt forward and _tackled the hellhound._ She let out a wordless cry and began to viciously attack the invisible dog. Her hands pummeled the air, while her legs seemed to be locked around nothing, leaving her hovering at least four feet off the ground. The hellhound had to be huge; much bigger than any of the hounds they'd encountered before.

Sam watched in an almost horrified fascination as Anna sank her teeth into something; one hand clawing at the hellhound, her fingernails coming up bloody. The nearly black blood of the supernatural monster dripping down to the floor, puddles of it appearing out of thin air. She spat out a mouthful of blood before getting unceremoniously thrown from the back of the hellhound.

Dean seized her arm, which had landed outside of the room and dragged out of the room, away from the fight. Anna snarled and spat, but Sam could see a large welt on her forehead from where it had slammed into the door. She squirmed towards the door, nothing but animalistic fury in her eyes.

"Come on! Let's go!" Dean snapped as he lifted Anna into his arms. Sam didn't need to be told twice, sprinting for the Impala. They could hear growling behind them, and Sam went straight for the trunk and their arsenal.

"Sword!" Sam obeyed the order without question, grabbing the weird sword from the salt trap and slashing behind him. There was a terrifying howl, but after a second there was nothing but silence and the faint smell of sulfur. Anna was on the ground, her hand wrapped around her arm, eyes fixed on nothing in particular. Dean stood next to her, gun cocked and a hard expression on his face.

"What was that?" Dean asked slowly, turning to Anna. The hunter said nothing. Anna seemed to be done talking after her one shouted order. Task complete, Anna slumped back into her silent stupor. Sam carefully laid the sword back inside the salt circle. He remembered Bobby once mentioning something about her sword being special. But special enough to kill hellhounds?

Sam wasn't sure, but he sure as hell planned on finding out.


	20. Chapter 20

_Anna_

She was wrong. Wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong.

Not out.

Visions danced in her head, whirling twirling spinning through her mind's eye. And parade of faces and people and places.

Blood poured over her hands and dripped through her fingers. Black liquid monster mixed with red human and a little bit of gold dust that whispered a victory song to her.

Fire flickered all around her, burning brightly in a multitude of colors; red orange gold green.

She's surrounded by danger and enemies and monsters. She can't let anything past her guard, not again.

Hellhound hellhound, drag her down to hell. Hellhound hellhound, monster of fire and pain. Hellhound hellhound, growl in the dark. Hellhound hellhound will _never_ drag her back again.

Gore slowly trickled down her face, drying in dark streaks. A warning. She's bigger and badder and tougher than any creature in Tartarus and she has the kill count to prove it. She doesn't need her sword to win.

Her hands curl into claws, and she surveys the hellscape she is in. The river Acheron winds its way across the ground, the burning glow of the flaming banks lighting the gloomy atmosphere.

Dean is driving. Sam is brooding out the window. Dark clouds of swirling Mist fill the air, and the screeches of distant monsters warn her to be ready.

Anna looks again, something inside her twitching.

Sam and Dean?

Tartarus flickers, and dark shapes fly past the window of the Impala. Red fire glows and her eyes widen at the green sign the pass.

 _Welcome to South Dakota._

Her hands flex for Eleos but she lost that somewhere. Gold sand swirling through the air, blowing away in the night.

Tar and brimstone are in her mouth, gummy and cold. She's one of the monsters now. Teeth and claws and fangs and destruction in her wake. Maybe she belongs to the Pit the way monsters do.

She tucks her hands into her lap, looking at the black blood flaking out from under her nails. The worn and cracking leather seat is familiar.

She looks up at Dean and his forehead is creased in the middle, like he's thinking. Smart that man is. Smarter than anyone believes. But also a totally idiot. But he's her idiot.

Or he used to be.

The scream of a harpy sends her into high alert, searching the air for any sign of imminent attack.

Instead of red pulsing ground and jagged glass cliffs, there are rolling black fields, and a navy black sky dotted with stars.

There aren't stars in hell. Or in Tartarus. Anna escaped Hell. But she's trapped in Tartarus. It's too far to climb while also fighting off monsters.

Dean was never hers. She'd been to slow to trust, and then it had been far too late for her to say anything.

Green eyes watched her warily through the mirror.

Mirrors can hold demons. Soft silver shine reflecting souls and baring her secrets. Dangerous things, mirrors. Hybrid magic if she used one and that's also dangerous. Unstable and forbidden.

She's dangerous too. Ventura blood is forbidden and unstable and old and powerful and hunted and hated and her father had known that when he'd met her mother. He'd known what he would do to her by having her and did it anyways.

But it was smart.

She suspected that her birth was less intellectual love, and a whole lot more strategic respect. With a healthy dose of vague divine curiosity in the mix, poof she'd been born.

A bored goddess and a desperate hunter, wondering at what her birth could bring.

Pain. That's the answer. Pain pain pain pain pain pain pain. Victory and pain. Death and blood. Fire and weapons. Pain. That's what Ventura and Olympian blood brought her. Isolde Ventura died when she was ten years old. Left behind a hollow, empty, nameless little girl alone for two years before the goddess renamed her at Camp Half Blood. Her blood lines brought her nothing but pain.

A soft growl filled the air, vibrating up through her bones. Car engine. Dean's car, his Impala, his Baby, carefully loved and maintained.

No, it's a monster, fangs bared and nasty slimy drool dripping from a gaping maw. Claws and teeth and bitter anger towards her and her blood just waiting to kill her properly. She claws at the ground around, scratching at her sides. Where is her sword?

Eleos is gone, and she can't remember how. But no matter. Anna is still the most dangerous thing in the Pit even without her sword. She's mean and vicious and dangerous and clever enough to survive all this time. Nothing will kill her. Not before she kills it.

No it's not a monster.

It's a car.

Puppy dog eyes flashing a new color every time she looks at him. Sam. Short Stuff. Sam Sam Sam Sam. Friend. Ally. Hunter. Study partner _Sam_. He's watching her in the mirror too. Dangerous bloody Anna, she can smell his fear. He's afraid of her.

Anna shook her head. Where is she?

She knew she was crazy. The problem with knowing she's crazy, is that she has no faith in her own mind anymore. And Anna's mind is her most deadly weapon. That's what she kills with. The fight is over before she draws a weapon. Anna looks out at the acid sky and the soft swirling galaxy above her head.

The huntress constellation glitters out her window, and Zoë's bow shifted on its axis. Pointing east. A warning and a sign all wrapped up in a shining glittering package. Zoë had been her friend once. Guided her when she'd been lost. Talked to her quietly when she's been hurt. Quieted her mind long enough for her to learn to think properly. Zoë would never steer her wrong.

They are going the wrong way.

* * *

 _Dean_

He drove. For hours, never stopping, his foot like lead on the pedal. The needle in the speedometer never dipped below ninety, and Dean only kept half an eye on the increasingly familiar roads.

The car is completely silent.

Sam was brooding through the dark window of the car. Anna sat in the backseat, her empty gaze trained at nothing. Her arm was bandaged clumsily, having bared her blood stained teeth in a ferocious snarl every time either him or Sam got too close to her. The nearly black blood had dried on her face and her hands, flaking off in tiny increments. They had been unable to coax her into washing it off. She just glared and growled at them, shivering in the corner of the backseat until they backed off. Dean just decided to count it as a win that she wasn't trying to lick the blood off her own face. He couldn't deal with a second demon or monster blood junkie.

Anna was silent again. Nothing they said or did seemed to register with her. She just watched them with an empty expression on her face. She sat when she was told to sit, drank the water they gave her and moved with a jerky abruptness that worried Dean. She only reacted when he or Sam tried to check her for injuries. He hoped that the only thing wrong was her arm. There was nothing else she would let them check, let alone fix up.

So Dean drove. He drove towards Sioux Falls as fast as he could. Because no matter how Bobby reacts, no matter what happens, they need help.

Anna's insanity had broken once, and remembering that keeps hope flickering inside of Dean. Anna is still there, buried somewhere deep down. She's just hiding underneath whatever happened to her in Hell. Hiding under what she had been forced to become. He glanced back at her again.

A hellhound had attacked her, and she'd _lived_. Anna had survived alone and unarmed when Ellen and Jo had died. When _Dean_ had died.

Anna can see hellhounds. And she knew how to fight them. Her sword could kill them. The weird mojo sword, glinting with its' four unfamiliar metals. The demon killing sword.

The copper smell of blood filled the car, and the urge to gag came over Dean. Blood never bothered him before. But it's dried on her face and her hands, staining her teeth. Monster blood. Dean resisted the urge to look at Sam.

A hellhound had attacked her. She was back on Earth, but she still wasn't safe from the horrors of Hell. Hell had sent their attack dogs after her, even though she'd fulfilled her deal. Anna watched something out the window, laser focused on the sky. A wrinkle formed between her eyebrows, her lips pulling tightly at the corners.

He'd always known she was smart, brilliant even. But he hadn't understood the hidden intelligence behind the hunter's cold silver eyes until she had lost her ability to hide it. Not even in Hell had he understood the power of her brilliance; and she'd employed every resource they had, every skill either of them possessed with ruthless efficiency to try and save them both. It just hadn't been enough down there. But topside? She was possibly the most beautiful, ruthless thing he's ever seen.

Yellow eyes had called her special. Bobby had warned them that her family was powerful, and old. Hunting is more than the family business, more than a job. It's a legacy she's carried since before she was even conceived.

Nico had whispered into the shadows that she was one of the most dangerous beings he knew. On late nights after she'd fallen, when the three of them plotted different ways to rescue her, Nico never doubted his adoptive sister's ability to survive anything and everything at all costs.

Dean watched her on hunt after hunt. Watched her push limits that shouldn't have been possible for her size to push. Saw her recover from injuries a little too quickly, react to threats a fraction to fast, lift weight just a little too heavy. She accomplished things Dean can barely explain. And a lot of things he can't.

Anna isn't evil. She's not some fugly that they have to kill. She's not a ghost or a demon or a revenant or a shapeshifter. She is human, and, and crazy, and a little (ok _a lot_ ) lost, but she is their _friend_.

"It's nothing Sammy." He dismissed his brother refocusing his energy on the road ahead of him. His hands tightened over the worn leather of the steering wheel. She'd dropped to her knees in that cemetery, desperate and lost and scared and in pain and utterly utterly human. In the motel room there was nothing in her but savage violence and an empty look in her eye that made the little voice in the back of his head that pointed him towards hunts scream _kill_.

They just needed to get to Bobby. Bobby would fix things. Bobby would fix _her_.

Dean's mouth tightened. He pressed harder on the gas, even though he never stopped watching Anna through the corner of his eyes.

* * *

 _Sam_

The rumble of the car is familiar and comforting, but Sam was a hundred and fifty miles away. In the bloody and destroyed motel room they'd left behind.

The growl of the engine echoes in his head; familiar in the car, but menacing as he envisions the empty space the hellhound occupied. In his mind's eye all he can see is the feral look on Anna's face as she had launched herself fearlessly at the monster, teeth bared like fangs, and every inch of her body quivering with beautifully brutal, savage, violence.

A streetlamp flashes, sending wild shadows through the car. Four blended metals flash in his mind's eye, the sword was lighter than he thought it would be. A wild slash with the blade. Gold powder, smelling like sulfur, exploding out from nothing. Sam's hand clenched around the imaginary pommel in his hand. He doesn't even remember picking up the sword. He just obeyed the sharp order that had been barked at him.

He glanced into the mirror, and caught a glimpse of Anna. Her eyes had always been mildly unnerving. Hunting had always made their family observant, and years spent watching his reserved father and equally reticent brother had always made Sam good at reading people. But he'd never gotten a handle on Anna. Even when from the first time they'd met in chem class at Stanford, he'd never known what she really thought. Silver eyes had flashed at him across the lab table, and her gaze had been cold and assessing. She was always watching, in a way not even his dad ever did. He'd gotten used to the flashes of cold metal in her eyes, because he liked the warm laughter at parties and the whirlwind of courage she carried around when they hunted.

But now… with nothing behind them, they were down right disturbing. The blood crusted onto her face and hands didn't help the image. Blood so dark it dried black on her face only made the pale silver in her eyes stand out even more, like two bullets waiting to be fired. If he hadn't known she was human, if Anna hadn't been his friend… She would look an awful lot like something he would hunt.

Until tonight, Sam had never been afraid of Anna. He'd always had a healthy respect for what she could do, and after she came back he's been worried about the things she could do, both to him and to herself. But he'd never be scared of _her_. Now he was wondering if he should have been all along. Her head lolled against the window of the car, her eyes fixed on something far away.

He took a deep breath, reassuring himself. He glanced back out the window, the fields flying by nothing more than black smudges in the night. Dean made like a bat out of hell from that motel, and Sam felt the same way. The quicker they got to Bobby the better. The older hunter would know what to do.

"Wrong." The car jerked under them wildly and both he and Dean jumped at the hoarse voice. Sam twisted around to look at Anna, her face steadily watching the sky a hand pressed up against the window.

"Anna…" She snapped her head back around to face them, her face twisted with desperation, glaring at Dean.

"Wrong. Go east." She snarled.

"No Anna, we're going to Bobby's. Remember Bobby? Uncle Singer?" Sam reminded her gently, watching her warily.

"East!" She insisted, her eyes trained on the sky. Dean's phone rang. Sam reached around the seat, trying to pry her away from the window. Maybe if she stopped looking, she'd settle down.

"Hello. Donna?" Sam's head snapped back to his brother. Why was their old babysitter calling Dean? His brother looked back at Anna and sighed.

"Sure, we'll be up there soon." The phone snapped shut and his brother pulled the car around in a sharp u-turn.

"Dean?" He shook his head.

"We're heading to Massachusetts. We're going east."


	21. Chapter 21

_Dean_

The further east they went, the more Anna seemed to relax. Dean drove steadily through the night, through Nebraska, Minnesota and Illinois. By the time they crossed into Indiana, the sky was bleeding reds and orange, day growing brighter and brighter by the minute.

They made it over three quarters of the way there before Anna started to grow agitated again. From the second they hit New York, she started whispering to herself, rocking slightly as she watched the sky bleed into day. She twisted around to watch the dark horizon behind them through the back window staring up at something only she knew about.

He had no idea what she was whispering, but the melodic murmuring was almost soothing. Once it was past six in the morning, and there was nothing left of the night sky she had turned around again and calmed. But she didn't stop her anxious mutterings, watching the roads carefully while wringing her hands. Occasionally she groped the seat, or her sides like she was looking for a weapon. He wished he could make it better, do something to help her. But there was little he could; not when they were on a hunt that Anna had insisted they head towards.

Dean carefully avoided New York City, driving along the northernmost edge of the state.

He and Sammy had kept an eye on Nico the last few years, and the gothic teenager had grown up a lot. They'd gotten him to finish high school, and now he was going to college with his boyfriend of nearly five years. After Anna had fallen three years ago, he and Sam had made a point of visiting every couple of months. Nico is a good kid, a little dark and a lot sad, but a good kid. His boyfriend Will is much the same way. They both knew about what went bump at night, and weren't afraid of it. Both teenagers had helped him and Sam out of a tight spot more than once. Plus Will sewed the neatest stitches Dean's ever had in his life, and he's faster than anyone who has ever patched up before too.

But Dean also remembered how the kid had reacted the last time Anna had come back to life. And Anna isn't stable enough for that. Nico and Will hadn't moved from New York to San Francisco. He didn't want to risk running into them. They had enough problems as it is.

He would call the kid after this case, after Anna was someplace stable. Once she was safe. Then he'd call Nico, let the kid alert whoever needed to be alerted. But the kid's lived without her for three years, he could wait a few more days.

He turned into the town, watching the roads carefully as he drove down the half familiar neighborhood roads. He and Sam had loved staying with Donna when they were kids, and some of his favorite memories from being a kid had taken place in the Mayflower Motel and in her small apartment. Dean spotted a white two story Victorian house at the address she'd given him, and pulled carefully into the gravel driveway. Donna stood next to the open door, a half smile quirked across her face and soft blonde curls arranged neatly around her face. She looked almost like how Dean remembered, except she had a few more smile lines around her eyes.

He and Sam got out of the car. Dean went around to the back of the car, where Anna sat curled up in the back seat.

"Hey Anna, we'll be really quick ok?" He told her quietly. Sam's boots crunched up the path, heading off Donna before she came down the steps of the porch. She looks at him, her head bobbing softly to music only she can hear.

"If you want, you can come inside." Before he even finished his sentence Anna had flinched back, drawing back as far away from Dean as she could get, scrabbling into the far corner of the car. Her hands clawed at her sides, flexing tightly, as she searched for weapons he and Sam had confiscated from her this exact reason.

"Hey, hey. Anna. Don't, do- no you don't have to. You can stay in the car ok?" He reached towards her, but she flinched away, eyes wide open like he was going to drag her out of the backseat. She nodded slowly, uncurling herself. Dean patted her uneasily on the shoulder, squeezing it once tightly.

"We're just going to be inside. We'll be right back Anna." He whispered. Closing the door, he turned around, brushing gravel off of his knees as he walked up to the house.

"Is she-"

"She's fine." Dean cut off the question, and even though she hesitated, Donna led them inside the house without another comment. He and Sam carefully wiped their shoes by the door and sat down in the two overstuffed chairs in the living room.

A teenage girl with shoulder length brown hair sat wrapped in a blanket, her arms folded carefully over her stomach. Donna set down a plate of cookies, glancing out the window towards the Impala before getting down to business.

Dean saw Anna's head leaning against the window of the car, but she was too far away for him to really see anything else. He tore his gaze away from the hunter sitting in his car and back to the conversation at hand.

"Dean and Sammy Winchester. So, how long has it been?" She asked with a smile, and Dean felt a rush of affection for a woman he'd hardly thought about in the last ten years.

"Summer before sixth grade." Sam answered promptly, a grin ghosting on his face. Dean couldn't quite pull up the same enthusiasm as him brother. He glanced out the window again, making sure Anna was ok. He knew she couldn't really come inside, not with blood still dried all across her face, teeth and hands. But he didn't like that they'd left her alone in the car either.

"Mmm, I remember. You assigned yourself your own reading list." Dean laughed at the sudden memory. Sam had even stuck to it, completing each fake assignment on time. His brother really is a geek. Always has been.

"That's right. I forgot about that." Dean joked, leaning out of his chair to poke Sam. His brother shoved him off, grinning back.

"Your mom happens to be the best babysitter we ever had." Sam changed the subject, looking at the girl. She hadn't really even looked up at them since they'd come into the room, but she glanced up when Sammy started talking to her.

"Well, when I was a maid at the Mayflower, out on the interstate - long before you were even an idea - their daddy used to pass through town and leave the boys with me while… he went off to… work." She explained, her face changing quickly from nostalgic to disturbed. Something clenched inside him at the reminder of how much the supernatural screws with people's lives.

"One time he was gone for two weeks."

"Two weeks?" The girl was incredulous. Donna hummed in affirmation as she poured lemonade for both Dean and Sam.

"Oh, he always came limping back. He loved you boys." Donna smiled warmly at them, even as she looked back out her window again.

"That girl, are you sure she won't come in?" Donna asked, her gaze fixed firmly on the parked Impala. She looked less than two seconds away from going outside to bring Anna inside herself. Dean shook his head, even as he checked on Anna again. She still hasn't moved. He supposed that was a good thing. Maybe she was finally sleeping. She needs to sleep desperately. Anna was worse than Sam after Jess died and he first started getting visions.

"Anna, she's… she's had a rough time recently. Not really a people person at the moment. Coming inside would be too stressful for her right now." Sam said quietly. Donna's whole face crumpled, and she shifted to stand. Somehow Sam had said the exact wrong thing to get Donna to back down.

"The poor dear… you helped her? Like your daddy did?" She asked. He exchanged a loaded look with Sam.

"You could put it that way. We owe her, and even if we didn't, Anna's our friend. Don't worry about her too much Donna. There isn't anything you can do for her right now. Besides, you called us."

"Yes, I did." Donna said quietly, looking at her daughter again.

"Did you know what he did all that time?" Katie asked, catching the silent agreement to change the subject. Dean flashed her a quick smile. Kid caught on quick.

"Little Sammy kept trying to tell me. Course I didn't believe him. Not at first anyways." Sam sighed, and Dean nearly flinched. Dad is still a hard topic; especially the way he had raised them. Dean didn't think their dad was wrong, but he sure as hell didn't think it was right either. But Sammy… he hated Dad for how they grew up.

"Katie our dad, umm… happened to be an expert at getting rid of ghosts. And now… so are we." Sam rushed the explanation, as if telling her faster was like ripping off the band aid. Donna's husband walked into the room, carrying several suitcases.

"That's why I called them sweetie. They can help us." Donna assured Katie, who seemed both like she wanted nothing more than to ask a thousand questions, but also to melt into the couch cushions. Dean counted it a win that the girl hadn't run screaming from the room yet. Learning that things really do go bump at night is a hard thing to learn. He refocused himself to the matter at hand, ganking the thing that was messing with Donna and her family.

"Sounds like you guys have got yourselves a poltergeist." He'd known, even before they'd gotten into Housatonic. And everything they had added just now only confirmed his own suspicions.

"Yeah, it started a month or two after we moved in." Donna's husband said, his forehead drawn down into a single line. Donna took over the explanation, gripping her daughter's hand tightly into her own.

"At first i-it was, uh, just bumps and knocks and uh… scratches on the wall. And then it started breaking things…" She trailed off uncertainly. Donna believed, ever since a revenant attacked them while he and Sam had been staying with her, but it seemed like she still held onto a few reservations. Ghosts are a hard thing to admit, when you don't want to sound crazy. But Dean and Sam _lived_ crazy. He ad Sam exchanged glances before continuing the interview.

"And then it attacked Katie?" Sam pressed her gently, leaning forward. Her husband answered gruffly.

"That was two nights ago. That's when Donna called you two." The man was clearly shaken, his leg bouncing in place. He was clearly ready to hightail it out of the house, taking his family with him. Whatever the poltergeist did to Katie scared him; scared him into believing.

Dean glanced out the window again. Anna is still visible in the car. He fought the urge to go back outside to check on her. Donna turned to Katie.

"Can you show them honey?" Katie didn't even hesitate as she sat up, unwrapping the blankets from her legs. Slowly standing up, she raised her loose t shirt over her stomach carefully. Bloody words were choppily carved into the tan flesh. Katie kept her eyes trained completely on the floor while she showed them.

"Murdered Chylde?" Sam read softly. Katie quickly tugged her shirt down and melted back into the couch, the brightly colored blanket wrapping tightly back around her like a soft shell. Dean felt the beginning of rage bubble up inside of him. Kids are off limits. He rocked forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he fixed his gaze on the teenager.

"Katie, everything is going to be fine. I promise. Why don't you guys take yourselves a little vacation, and uh, we'll take care of it." And he meant every word. Hell or high water; or rather, apocalypse or not, they'd gank this poltergeist for hurting this kid. Extra crispy. That was a Winchester promise.

"Thank you." The gratitude on Donna's face sent a knife through him. He hadn't done anything to deserve that. As far as he was concerned, Dean owed the world. It's his goddamn fault, he broke the first seal, He should have been more careful with Sam, kept a better eye on him. Dean looked outside at Anna again. He hasn't done anything worth her thanks. Or anyone else's. Not lately.

He and Sam followed Donna and her family out the door. She paused on the porch, while her husband loaded the bags and Katie curled up in the backseat.

"Dean, that girl. She's more than just your friend, isn't she?" Donna asked quietly. Sam seemed to melt into thin air, reappearing next to the car. The backdoor of the car opened and his gigantor brother crawled into the back bench with Anna. She didn't seem to react, just stared at her hands while Sam talked to her quietly rather than face the questions Donna is asking.

 _Coward_.

"Something like that." He admitted quietly, not looking at his former babysitter. Donna patted his arm gently.

"Well, you were a good boy. And I have a good feeling that you became a good man. You take care of that girl Dean." He nodded sharply, a small smile twitching on his face. Her approval made something warm bloom in his chest.

"Yes ma'am." She smiled and patted his cheek. Without another word she descended down the steps and got into the car. With one last wave, the small family left. He took a shaky breath before heading to the car.

"Food Sammy?" He asked, the door slamming as he slid into the driver's seat. Sam nodded, carefully climbing his way over the seat into the front. He looked back at Anna, repeating the question not really expecting her to answer.

She nodded her agreement.

Dean's hands stilled on the key, only half turned in the ignition as he looked at Anna. She tilted her head to the side and watched him steadily. Sam nudged him and Dean forced himself to turn back around, starting up the engine properly.

"Food it is." He agreed. Dean looked at Anna again, gunmetal grey eyes meeting his through the rearview mirror. "But first, we gotta get you cleaned up Carrie." Anna huffed and it was almost like a laugh. Dean counted it as a victory as he pulled onto the street.

Anna is still in there. All he has to do is find her.


	22. Chapter 22

_Anna_

She's glad Dean avoided New York City. It's too close to Camp for comfort. Too close to Olympus.

The closer to Massachusetts she got, the looser the tension in her chest got. The clearer the world became. By the time Dean and Sam left the big white house and she was clean, Anna nearly felt herself again. Earth or Tartarus, she isn't too sure which she's at, but either way she's clearer than she's been in a long time. She was dressed in clean clothes again, fresh jeans and a t-shirt. She has no idea where the boys seemed to find their endless supply of clothes, especially ones in her size, but she's grateful.

New clothes, not covered in blood or dirt or dust or grime, along with her clean hair makes her feel almost human again.

Her damp hair stuck to the back of her neck as she slid out of the car behind the boys, and the wind gusted around her. The cold seeped into her and Anna shivered. Dean draped his coat around her shoulders, tugging the front closer together so it was securely wrapped around her. He sighed, gripping her shoulders as he held onto her for a second longer than he needed too. The bell above the door rang cheerily as Sam held it open for them, and she let Dean gently tug her inside. The smell of fried oils and cooking meat washed over her in a wave of painful familiarity. Her stomach instantly clenched at the hopes of food besides the burning water of the Acheron, or cardboard breakfast sandwiches.

She managed a small smile as Dean sat her down in the booth across from Sam. She folded her hands neatly on the table in front of her. Sam pulled out the laptop and Anna fought the urge to recoil from the machine. She wanted french fries, and she wasn't going to spook the boys because technology makes her nervous. She's not the one using the computer, it shouldn't attract any monsters to her location.

Or so Anna hoped.

"Sammy what do you want?" Dean asked, standing up again. Anna examined her hands closely. Everything had been scrubbed clean, even her nails. Nothing of the hellhound's blood remained. It's as if the attack never happened. At least if she ignored the bandage on her right arm where the hellhound had gotten in a good blow. But that would heal quickly enough as it is. It hadn't even needed stitches. And if she could get herself to one of her safe houses, she would have access to nectar and ambrosia.

But to get there, she'd need the boys to believe she's lucid again. To trust her. And if this was just a hallucination? Then nothing she did would matter anyways. She looked up at Dean.

"Can I have fries?" He blinked at her, eyes wide.

"Uh, yeah Anna. Sure. One order of fries coming right up." He assured her, stumbling over his words. She smiled at him and pulled his coat closer around her. She liked the familiar feeling of the soft buttery leather. Anna missed her own jacket. But that had been destroyed a long time ago, back when Dean had still been in Hell and she'd been trying to break them out.

The smell of brimstone filled her nose and Anna shuddered, firmly pushing thoughts of Tartarus out of her mind. instead Anna focused on the case the boys had landed. The case Zoe had steered her towards; although why the huntress would do that Anna has no idea.

It's a poltergeist. That's what the boys had talked about in the car. She can do that. Ghosts are easy.

Salt. Bones. Flame.

The boys hardly trust her anymore, but they aren't going to kill her. Not yet. And they won't as long as they never find out that she's a demigod. Mortal hunters, even the Winchester boys, don't see enough grey to allow anything non-human to live.

She needs to get to a safe house. She might be crazy, but her safe houses could protect her and Anna can recover. Once she recovers, after she rebuilds her defenses, gets her story straight then she can be with the boys again. Her boys. Dean and Sam. Her friends.

"Uh, I'll get the HealthQuake Salad Shake. Thanks Dean." Sam muttered as he stated tapping away on the computer. Dean rolled his eyes, muttering about rabbit food as he went up to the counter to order. Anna picked at her fingernails, staring at the table.

The boys will never buy her just suddenly being sane again. _She_ hardly believes it. Besides, she can see the the craggy cliffs in Tartarus flickering over Sam's shoulder, superimposed over the beige paneled walls against the back of the diner.

No she isn't sane. But every day she spends away from the hospital, the clearer her head feels. Anna is growing more and more convinced that the asylum wasn't a hallucination, but a real institution she's spent months trapped inside of. That her revelation with the boys not even three days earlier was accurate.

But holding onto her here and now is hard. The past and present blended in her mind and she's only partially certain that what she's experiencing is not only real but happening to her now, rather than years ago, before her fall into Tartarus.

Anna doesn't even know what city they're in currently. She has no money, no ride, no weapons. The boys took Eleos, and she willingly gave up her rings. If she just took off they'd catch her in a day, and even if they didn't, she'd be at the mercy of monsters and demons and worst of all, mortals. She needs to bide her time a little. Gather some resources, collect information.

Plus she's hungry. And by her count, even if she hadn't really aged in Tartarus, she'd spent something like a thousand years trapped in the pit. She hasn't had fried, greasy, potatoey goodness is a sinfully long time.

Sliding into the seat next to her, Dean unloaded his tray of goodies. Anna couldn't help the grin that spread across her face as she took in the warm salty smell of french fries. Dean passed Sam a tall cup filled with vegetables. Without looking up from the computer screen the younger Winchester brother poured his dressing, recapped the cup and began shaking the entire concoction. His forehead wrinkled as he chewed on the fork he was holding in his mouth while he typed one handed.

Both her and Dean stared at him, the rattling filling the empty air between them. Sam glanced up at them, the shaking stopping.

"Oh you shake it up baby." Sarcasm dripped from Dean's tone, near visceral rebellion to his brother's choices clear on the elder brother's expression. Anna just raised her eyebrows. She liked salads, but that was plain weird. Sam sighed, but other than that he ignored them both. The corners of his mouth twitched up into the beginning of a smile, even as the shaking resumed. Anna just rolled her eyes again as she contemplated the food in front of her. It smelled too good to be true. Like the Pit was lying to her in order to break her down more. After all, Tantalus was sentenced to standing in the River Acheron, near the edge of Tartarus for all eternity yearning towards food and water. For all she knew this could be a cruel trick.

She really hoped it wasn't.

"You know, poltergeist aside. Donna looked pretty good, don't you think?" Dean asked his brother, picking up his own food. The expression on his face was one eyebrow waggle away from a suggestion.

"Dude." Sam groaned, "Don't tell me you've still got the hots for our old babysitter." Anna poured ketchup into the corner of the cardboard container her fries had come in.

"What? No! That's weird." Dean denied, laughing awkwardly as he glanced towards Anna. She just shrugged at him and took a bite of her fries. She froze, and the world fell away as she looked down at her plate in wonder.

 _"Ketchup."_ It was like heaven in her mouth. Anna literally could not remember the last time she ate something that tasted _not bad_ , let alone something that tasted as amazing as these warm, perfectly salted fries did. She moaned softly and busied herself with her food. Dean huffed a laugh, nudging her side gently. She looked up at them both, widening her eyes as if she could impress on her friends how good the food was just based on how big she could make her eyes.

French fries are the best thing ever.

"I dunno Anna, I mean... there's also things like ice cream and pancakes and whiskey. But french fries are pretty high up there." Anna flinched back from Sam's joke. She hadn't realized that she'd spoken out loud. Dean glared at Sam and wrapped his arm around her shoulders gently. Sam opened his mouth to apologize.

Anna flicked a fry at him.

"Hey!" She let out a peal of laughter at the glob of ketchup that was slowly sliding down Sam's cheek. The fry has fallen into his lap after it bounced off his face.

Dean burst into laughter, deep chuckles bubbling up and his joy took up an almost physical space. At least, it did until Anna dropped second ketchup laden french fry down the open collar on the back of his shirt. Then it was Sam's turn to laugh as Dean leapt out of his chair and hopped in place to get the wayward potato out of his shirt. Anna just grinned as she serenely kept eating her little slice of heaven.

French fries are the best thing _ever_.


	23. Chapter 23

_Sam_

Dean grumbled the entire rest of their meal, but he didn't really mean it. This seemed to be the first real break in Anna's mental state since she snapped out of the wraith's control back when she'd convinced them to take her back to Wyoming.

Anna had always had a hidden playfulness to her, pulling pranks that they could never quite pin back on her and making cutting jokes. Even if she lacked her form- her _usual_ deviousness, the fact that Anna had been joking around with them at all rekindled a hope that the hellhound attack had nearly extinguished in Sam.

Her little ketchup stunt had completely disrupted the research he had started to do, but it was totally worth it. The rest of lunch had been spent laughing at Dean, and the two of them unsuccessfully trying to get back at her. It was almost unfair how much faster than either of them she is. Every attempt at revenge ended with a slapped wrist and Anna's rough laugh.

Now Anna was settled inside the car as they sat outside the diner, Sam balancing his laptop on his knees as he looked up the history of Donna's house.

"Sam, what I meant earlier… about Donna. I just meant that she's doing good. With her husband, kid. With this whole Amityville thing being thrown at em' but they're hanging tough." Sam forced himself not to look at Dean. He'd been trying for ages to get his brother to open up to him, about anything, everything. Usually it's like pulling teeth. No way is he screwing up when Dean is volunteering the information freely.

"Yeah, I guess she is." He murmured noncommittally, doing his best to look busy with the laptop. Dean folded his arms tightly across his chest, staring towards the Impala.

"You ever… you ever think that you'd want something like that? Wife, rugrats, the whole nine?" Sam froze. He very carefully didn't look anywhere near his brother. There is no way this question is just a coincidence. Sam carefully examined the keyboard of the lap he had balanced across his knees.

"I don't know Dean." He admitted honestly. "Before, you know, with Jess… yeah I wanted it. I wanted it so bad with her Dean. But she's gone and with everything that's been happening this last year I haven't really thought about it. But yeah, I think if I had the chance to have normal… I'd take it and run." He paused and carefully studied his brother.

"You?"

"Give up hunting?" Dean asked him, eyebrows drawn high on his face, the disbelief on his face almost comical. Sam held in his sigh of relief at his brother's predictable return to type. But something inside him also broke at the words. Dean, of all people, _deserved_ normal. To live in a nice house, with a pretty wife and a couple of kids.

To be able to not risk his life everyday for no thanks and usually a wanted sheet.

If Sam had it his way, that normal would include Anna. Or rather the Anna they'd seen today, with the french fries and the jokes and laughter. He still isn't too sure about what had happened with the hellhound or her sword, but the longer he thought about it the more he could rationalize it.

They had a demon killing knife, and the Colt could kill lots of things. It's totally reasonable for Anna to have another weapon that can kill unkillable things. And she spent three earthside years in hell. Dean was gone for four months and came back thinking it had been forty years. He also said that it felt like time was always speeding up. Who knew how many years she'd been down there. It's not that crazy that her fighting choices would have gotten more brutal, and she's made a desperate choice in the heat of the moment.

Anna would be fine. One day. They both deserved it. And Sam would do anything for his brother.

"Uh, well, that house of theirs is old, really old. Like hundreds of years. I found a legend, it's unconfirmed but still…" Sam trailed off. Dean's attention was on the car. God it was almost like nothing changed. The two of them still totally oblivious, just sending the other sad little looks whenever the other's back was turned. But Anna wasn't entirely sane, and Sam would kick his brother's ass if he tried anything right now. Anna deserves better than his brother behaving like a jackass just because he doesn't know how to manage his feelings.

"Saying?" Dean prompted him, startling Sam. He hadn't realized that their silence had stretched out for so long. Or that Dean was paying any sort of attention to him.

"Supposedly in the 1720's house was owned by a guy named Isaiah Pickett. Legend has it, he hung a woman in his backyard for witchcraft. A woman named Maggie Briggs." Dean leaned over his shoulder to read the computer screen while Sam kept working.

"Ok, so an angry ghost witch." Dean grumbled. He hates the witchy ones. Dean claims that they're the most annoying.

"If it's true." Sam hedged. "It still doesn't explain what _Murdered Chylde_ means." Dean groaned, wiping a hand over his face.

"Or where the bitch is buried." Sam closed the laptop, stowing it away inside his bag. The two of them got up, walking back to the car. Anna leaned out the window, watching the two of them with wide eyes. Something about her still unsettled Sam. He wasn't sure if it was the docile way she let them steer her out of the case, or if it was something about her but he needed a little bit of time alone. Time to think. Process.

"You know it's a long way back, but I can see if I can find something in the town records." Dean didn't even look at him, sliding into the car. Plus, leaving the two of them alone might end up being a good thing in the long run.

"It's worth a shot." Dean shrugged starting up the car. Sam sighed, glancing at the curled up form in the back of the car. He hoped that he's right; that Anna is one of the good guys. He isn't sure if Dean would survive losing her again.

He certainly wouldn't survive having to put her down. Neither of them would.


	24. Chapter 24

_Anna_

She followed Dean back into the motel room, irritation coursing through her veins. Sam had called them over two hours ago, letting them know he was on his way back to their motel room. When he hadn't shown up, the two of them had gone looking.

The woman at the town records office said she'd watched him leave, and seen him take a shortcut through the park down the street. But the park had been empty and there'd been no sign of Sam. Dean had grown increasingly panicked, calling Sam's cell phone over and over again as they searched the town. But Hustatonic didn't exactly have a whole lot of town to search, and since it was close to midnight they'd turned back towards the motel.

"Sam!" Dean's irritated voice broke through her thoughts, and her head snapped up. There, right in the middle of their motel room in just his plain grey t shirt stood Sam, doing a good impression of a deer in headlights.

"Where the hell have you been man? I've been trying to call you for hours." Dean growled. Anna slipped into the room behind him, her eyes fixed narrowly as Sam jerked in surprise then awkwardly made his way over to the bed, where several bags of fast food were sitting.

"I picked up some food. Bacon burger turbo, large chili cheese fries and one medium regular fries?" He offered weakly, brandishing the greasy food at them both. Anna sat down on the bed and worked the laces of her shoes before kicking them off.

Dean slowly took the food from Sam, and he glanced over at her, the bewildered expression he was wearing matching her own. Anna shrugged back at him. She's crazy, what was she supposed to know?

"Thanks." Anna muttered softly, eyeing the relieved looking Sam as she took the french fries Dean passed her.

"Sorry man, really. I- I just lost track of time. I didn't mean to freak you out." Sam said apologetically, his voice growing more confident with each word. Dean just raised his eyebrow and shucked his coat, tossing it down onto the bed. Anna frowned. Something about Sam felt wrong.

"Thanks. I don't know why it took you two hours, but thanks. " Dean seemed to accept whatever it was he saw in Sam, since he turned his back on his brother and started to eat. Anna also unrolled her bag of fries and a slight grin came over her at the heavenly smell of greasy potatoes. She hoped this wasn't some fever dream or hallucination. She was kinda learning to doubt that part of her brain, since most of her Tartarus dreams were rarely this nice. It was bloody and hard and gritty, but little moments in between, the good moments, the happy and silly and sun filled moments were slowly convincing her that this was really real.

And her days weren't painful beyond the telling of it, so that was something else too.

"Uhh, guys. You're going to want to eat that on the road." Sam's anxious voice broke back in. Anna's head snapped up, her hand curling protectively around her food as she glared at the youngest Winchester.

"Why?" Anna snapped. Dean flinched back from her voice in surprise, and Sam's eyes widened, but his jaw set stubbornly. Anna glared at Sam. Something is definitely wrong with him. He felt... _choppy_ around the edges.

"The maid came in and saw _that_ , and now they're all kinda freaking out." He responded gruffly, waving at the pile of guns they'd left on the comforter, trying to stare her down.

Sam would never do that. Not even before she'd clawed her way out of Tartarus. He was too smart to challenge her like that, especially in her new and not-improved state of mind. Anna felt a thrum of adrenaline echo in her system, and her hand inched to her hip where she… wasn't carrying a weapon. Because the boys didn't trust her. She didn't blame them, not really, but still. She wants to be armed. Dean quickly slid between the two of them, glaring at his brother while also shielding him from her mounting anger and suspicion.

"Why'd you let the maid in?" He asked with an irritated snap. Sam huffed, his attention diverted back to Dean. Dangerous move. He'd essentially dismissed her as a threat. Anna silently got to her feet as Sam weakly defended himself.

No, not Sam.

Something is wrong with him, and whoever was riding around in that body, in that image, isn't Sam. She was fairly certain of it.

"It just _happened_." Anna came up to Dean's shoulder. Judging by the way the hunter tensed, he knew she was there. Dean huffed.

"Whatever. I gotta hit the head, and then we'll take off." Anna's hand came up to his shoulder and squeezed it. He glanced at her, and she shook her head minutely, but Dean just smiled gently at her and shook her hand off. He headed towards the bathroom and Anna turned to glare at the imposter.

"Get in the car." She ordered, watching him stand in the center of the room, wringing his hands.

"Uh I'll just go wait, umm outside." He stammered out. Anna glared at him and watched him leave the room carefully. He made one abortive attempt to detour towards the bed with the weapons, but Anna cleared her throat pointedly and he headed out the door and she watched him climb into the Impala. Then Anna carefully packed up the guns that had been left on the bedspread. She glanced back at the car to see Sam slouching guiltily out of the car, something gathered in his hands. He dumped whatever it was into the dumpster, but before she could march out there and confront him, the bathroom door opened and closed behind her. Dean came up behind her, angled so she could still spot him out of the corner of her eye if she wanted to look, and his hand gently wrapped around her hand.

"Anna, let go of the gun." He murmured softly, gently prying her fingers off the weapon. She turned to face her friend.

"This is real right?" She asked him softly, holding her hands out in front of her.

"Anna…"

"I mean, even if I'm crazy and still in the pit, you'll probably say yes, but Dean tell me this is real." She begged him, her voice cracking on the last words. Dean gently wrapped his large hands around hers, the warmth from his palms radiating into her cold fingers.

"This is real Anna. You're back and safe and here and you aren't crazy in the pit. Feel." He placed his hand, holding hers, over his chest, the warm steady thump of his heart under her palm. "You're back on Earth. We're both alive and we're going to be ok." He assured her. Anna sighed and turned away from Dean, staring out the window to where she could see Sam's silhouette in the car.

"I think something is wrong with Sam. I don't think that's Sam out there." Her words are almost silent. She doesn't want to voice them, because if she says them out loud, they're real. Chiron had taught her that names have power. Anna knew it was more than what the old horse insinuates. It wasn't just the names of people or gods or monsters or places that carry power. Power comes in naming anything; from fears to hopes to ideas. That's how gods and monsters are born.

"He's being weird." Dean admitted, gathering the weapons Anna had packed. He tucked the gun he'd confiscated from her into the waistband of his jeans. Anna laced her shoes and sat by the door, watching Dean sweep the room for any last traces of their stay.

"Just, something is off Dean. I don't really know what, but it's wrong and I think you know it too." She warned him. Dean tensed, his back turned to her.

"Fine. We'll keep an eye on him." He agreed stiffly. She stood up and followed Dean out of the car. She slid into the backseat, a wary eye on the imposter in Sam's usual spot. She caught Dean's eye when he asked to drive, and Dean reluctantly agreed, despite Anna's warning head shake.

But when the not-Sam crashed the Impala into the dumpster, his jaw had set and his eyes took on an angry glint. Not-Sam rambled out apology after apology, and didn't notice when the two of them exchanged a hard nod.

This isn't their Sam.


	25. Chapter 25

_Dean_

He wakes up with a heavy groan, a loud tinny ringing sound in his ears. He lets out an irritated huff and he paws for his phone, sitting on the side of his bed at the new motel they'd crashed at.

Sam blinks up at him blearily from the floor, his eyes going wide with panic as Dean sits up to answer the phone. Anna is hovering in the bathroom door, silver grey eyes narrowed at the guileless fear on the maybe fake Sam's face.

"What." He snapped into the phone not recognizing the number.

"Dean! Thank god! I've been trying to reach you all night and all morning. I know this is gonna sound crazy- but think I'm in the wrong body." A wheezy squeaky voice came through the phone; but even if the voice is all wrong, Dean could smell the bitch face on his brother through the phone. His grip on the phone tightened, and the plastic casing creaks ominously.

"Really? Cause it sure as hell looks like-" Sam interrupts him, his voice edging on hysteria.

"The guy right next to you? The guy near _Anna_ , it's not me!" And that clinches it. He should have listened to Anna last night when she'd warned him the first time. But no matter what he says to her, the woman is in no way lucid half the time, and he hadn't believed her.

Even if the imposter had crashed his Baby.

That thought sent a bolt of lighting through his spine. _A stranger had touched his baby_. Worse, that stranger had _crashed_ his baby.

"Send me your coordinates. We'll come soon." He promised and hung up over his brother's protests. A feral smile crossed Anna's face, that under almost any other circumstance would have worried Dean. But who or whatever this thing is, had messed with Sam. All bets were off now, and Dean isn't even sure he'd stop Anna from going nutso on it like she had that hellhound a couple days ago.

The guy on the floor's breathing began to speed up, and Anna stalked silently across the floor. Dean got off the bed, his voice a low growl in the back of his throat, looming over the stranger wearing his brother's meat suit.

"Alright pal. Either you start talking, or I start waterboarding." It was disconcerting to see the palpable fear on Sam's face, the expression one he hasn't seen on his brother since they were little kids. Especially since Sam would know that Dean wasn't really serious. Even if who the fuck ever this was isn't Sam, he's _wearing_ Sammy. And his brother would still need that body once they fixed this. He has no intention of hurting the imposter.

Much.

"Oh my god. Please don't hurt me. I'm so sorry. I'm so so so sorry." The anxious chatter increased and Anna rolled her eyes. She seized Sa- the Fake, by his arms and bodily hauled him into a chair. He looked like he was going to piss himself. Dean sighed.

"Look, take it easy champ." The imposter just kept shaking, deep almost familiar eyes wet with tears and dark with fear. Anna held him in place while Dean loomed over him, glaring at the shivering person wearing Sam's body.

"I don't wanna die, I don't wanna die." He insisted shakily, leaning away from Dean. The fake was making the dangerous mistake of believing that Dean was the most dangerous thing in that room.

"Where's Sam?" He asked shortly. Dean could tell that Anna's grip is tight, but he also knows that if _Sam_ ever needed to break free he could. Anna's danger didn't come from brute strength. Plus Sam was easily a foot and change taller than her.

This fake clearly had no idea how to break her grip, let alone hold his ground in a fight against anyone, let alone _Anna_ of all people. Not for lack of trying though. The fake kept trying to shake off the other hunter's bruising grip, and failing miserably.

"I-I mean, pro- prob-b probably at school. It's not even third block yet." Dean and Anna's mouths drop open at the same moment.

" _School?_ How old are you?"

"I'm seventeen." The fake's voice cracked over his answer. Shock filled him as he stared dumbly down at the high schooler wearing Sam's body.

"Huh." Dean's forehead scrunched up and he glanced towards Anna who was wearing a similarly confused expression. He glanced back down at the… kid?

"Seventeen?" His and Anna's disbelieving voices asked at the same time. The kid nodded nervously, shrugging awkwardly as best he could under Anna's stern grip.

"You've got to be kidding me." Anna's voice was flat. She let go of the kid and took a step back from the chair he was sitting on, and snorted as she sank down onto the bed. Her head sank into her palms, and Dean noticed that she was gripping her hair with white knuckles. He paced around the chair, brushing against her gently, tugging her hands back into her lap.

The kid swiveled around to face the two of them, his eyes occasionally darting to the door that was firmly behind Dean. He ground the heels of his palms into his eyes, groaning a little bit as he processed the situation. He scrubbed at his hair before dropping his arm.

"Great. We can't walk into a high school and take Sam back while he's still wandering around in this ki- hey kid what's your name?"

"Uh, Gary. Hi?" The kid, Gary, gave an awkward little wave. Both Dean and Anna ignore him.

"Gary's body can't vanish from school in the middle of the day." Anna pointed out softly, her hands fidgeting in her lap. Dean nodded decisively.

"So we deal with Maggie Briggs now, then after school is out, we get Sam, and Gary will fix this." The kid looked up, excitement blooming over Sam's familiar features. It was weird, cause Gary moved Sam's face differently. Now that he was looking for it, it wasn't hard to tell that the person in the meat suit wasn't Sam. The kid was a completely different person.

"Wait- Maggie Briggs? You mean, like the witch Maggie Briggs?" Gary asked eagerly, almost like a lost puppy dog. Dean nodded.

"Yeah, her. What do you know?"

"Yeah, she's in the basement of the Pickett house." Now that he wasn't trembling with fear, the kid seemed confident, even excited by the idea of the dead witch.

"Who's where?" Anna asked curiously. Dean had completely forgotten that he and Sam had been planning on leaving her out of the hunt. She hadn't really been lucid until right after Sam had called him last night, and even then, Anna hasn't exactly been particularly stable lately.

"Maggie Briggs, she's the poltergeist at the house we were at yesterday." Dean explained to her quietly. Gary kept talking, not registering the fact that the hunters were hardly paying him any attention. The kid's face was lit up, his hands waving around animatedly, his fascination with the topic blatantly obvious.

"Okay there's this legend that he hung her, but he didn't. The real truth is that she was carrying his illegitimate child, and he killed her and buried her in the basement." Realization dawned on Dean as the full story finally came out on the witch they're hunting.

"Her Murdered Chylde. That would explain the scratches. How do you know all this?" Gary shrugged at the question, a slightly proud look crossing the teenager's face.

"Oh I've done all kinds of research on this." They both raise their eyebrows at him, and Gary shrinks back into the chair. Dean turned away from the kid, rolling his eyes as he gathered up their stuff, tossing it all into the duffle bags they'd left next to the door.

"Fine. Let's gank the bitch. But after that,we're going to get Sammy."


	26. Chapter 26

_Anna_

Anna follows behind Dean and the kid, the basement stairs creaking under their feet. She still thought it was a mistake to bring Gary along, but it wasn't like they could leave him in the car. So she let Dean take point, and sandwiched the high schooler in Sam's body in between the two of them, and kept her eyes on their surroundings. No matter how simple this salt and burn should be, it didn't take demigod intuition to know something was going to go wrong.

Gary was snickering with excited disbelief, waving his rock salt filled shotgun with all the enthusiasm of a five year old playing war. Anna flexed her grip on the iron crowbar she'd convinced Dean to let her carry, since he still wouldn't give her back Eleos. Her lips tightened as she glared at his back. Why he thought that giving the seventeen year old a gun was a better idea that giving it to her, she had no idea. She might still be a little crazy, but she was less likely to accidentally shoot one of them. They'd had a full on fight about it outside the house and it had taken all of Anna's tenuous self control not to attack Dean for standing between her and a weapon. Being unarmed made her itchy. The cool iron crowbar in her hand had been a concession to her terror, but Anna still wished she had her sword back. She feels naked without it.

Dean had the duffle bag of salt and accelerant slung over his shoulder. He clicked on his flashlight, waving it across the basement methodically. They both scanned the floor, looking for signs of a witch's grave.

"Boo-yeah!" Gary shouted, a wild grin spread across his face. "Master Chief is in the house bizatches!" Both Anna and Dean froze, staring at the kid in disbelief. Anna seriously could not believe that Dean gave the kid the gun and not her.

"Are you alright?" Dean asked incredulously. Anna just stared. Gary looked over at them both guiltily.

"Uh, yeah. I'm fine." Anna reached over and flicked on the basement light, and the dim bulbs flickered to life. Dean set his flashlight to the side, as both he and Anna spotted the willow moss at the same time.

"Well I'll be damned. Kid's right. Willow moss." Dean muttered. Gary gestured awkwardly, the shotgun dangling lazily at his side.

"Yeah, it's supposed to grow over witch's graves right?" Dean just rolled his eyes. He dropped the bag to the ground and pulled out the shovels. He tossed one to the kid. Gary dropped the shotgun to catch the shovel.

"NO!" Anna roared, lunging forward to catch it before it hit the ground. There was a loud bang, and Anna shrieked as she was blasted back.

Metal clanged as both shovels were dropped.

"ANNA!"

 _"OhmygodohmygodohmygodI'msosorryIdidn'tmeantodothatohmygodohmygodohmygod."_ Anna gasped and coughed as she tried to move. It felt like she'd gotten sucker punched by a cyclopes. The blast had caught her full in the chest, and she'd been less than a yard away. Her chest burned, and she could feel the plastic packing shell shift where it had lodged in her shoulder. Her head smacked back against the floor as she blinked the white spots of pain out of her eyes.

Dean's face appeared above her; Sam's too. Except the facial expressions were all wrong. Anna blinked slowly. Right. Not Sam.

"Move kid." Dean snapped at Not-Sam, and soon it was only the older Winchester brother kneeling over her.

"Ow." She muttered. Anna flinched away when Dean went to help her sit up. She shot him an apologetic look, but pushed herself up into a seated position on her own. Gary was standing in the far corner of the basement, wringing his hands. Terror was clearly written across his face. Anna glanced down at her shoulder, dark flecks of blood spotting her previously clean shirt where the salt round had dug into her skin. She reached towards her shoulder, batting Dean away as he tried to interfere.

"Anna, you shouldn't-" She grunted as she pulled the plastic packing shell out of her shoulder. It clinked against the rotting wooden floorboards, dark blood gleaming in the dim light.

"It's fine." She muttered. "This is why we don't give the child a _gun_ Dean." She shot him the stink eye. Anna knew something like this would happen. She huffed and turned back to her shoulder, saving her _I told you so_ for later. Carefully picking her shredded shirt, Anna pulled it away from her bleeding shoulder. It hurt, but it wasn't going to kill her. She could ignore it for now. The smell of sulfur filled the air, and she gagged a little at the acidic turn the air had taken. Dean looked at her worriedly, but she shook her head. He got to his feet, his expression almost worryingly dark as he turned on Gary.

"You stupid son of a bitch." He growled softly, advancing on the terrified teenaged body-hijacker.

"H-Hey man. I'm really sorry." Gary stammered. Anna groaned and pushed herself to her feet. She can't let Dean murder the kid for being stupid. She winced at the pull of torn skin in her shoulder. For a split second the basement vanished and was replaced by a red landscape dotted with black glassy cliffs and swirling toxic fumes. She sucked in a sharp breath and stumbled back, her hand instinctively cupping over the bleeding injury. The scent of demigod blood might as well be a flashing neon billboard pointing to where she is. Every monster in a hundred miles would be coming for her. She needs to get back to the safety of the swamp, and the warm hut sitting in the center.

Anna blinked a second time, and the basement snapped back into place. Dean and Gary were both looking at her worriedly.

"I'm fi-" A gust of solidified air slammed into her chest, sending her flying back into a set of rotting wooden shelves. She bit back a yell as her injured shoulder slammed into the wall.

"ANNA!" She groaned, pulling herself out of the boards as both of the boys rushed over towards her. Dean wrapped his hands around her uninjured shoulder and helped her to her feet. Gary hovered worriedly, eyes darting wildly around the basement.

"Let's get the hell out of here." He insisted, grabbing Anna by the arm and trying to tug her towards the stairs. She shook her head.

"We gotta burn the body first kid." She informed him, pushing him back towards the hidden grave. Dean tossed a shovel to the shaking Gary and the two of them began to dig.

Cold air blew over her neck and Anna spun around. A woman dressed in a white colonialist dress, with matted curls tumbling across a dirt smeared face smiled at her, no warmth left in her cold dead eyes. Anna smiled back, teeth bared, and dove for the ghost's feet. Dean yelped as the witch threw him across the room. Her hand closed over the cold iron of the crowbar and rolled to her feet, her arm already swinging. As the iron made contact with the ghost Maggie Briggs screamed, dissipating into white smoke.

She reappeared a couple feet to the left and Anna adjusted her grip on the crowbar. Rage clouded the dead woman's features and she flew towards Anna, arms stretched out into claws. Anna widens her stance, ignoring the throbbing pain in her shoulder, ready to fight off the angry witch.

Unholy shrieking fills the room as Maggie Briggs is consumed by fire, and the ghost vanishes. Both Anna and Dean turn to face a jubilant looking Gary, dirt smeared across his face and accelerant in his hands. Flames flicker at his feet inside of the witch's grave.

"Dude… that was _sweet!"_ Anna and Dean exchange exasperated eye rolls.

* * *

 **AN:**

 **With self isolation going on I've decided to try something new, especially because I have a good idea for how the rest of the story is going to go.**

 **I'm going to start trying to regularly update this story once a week. (I've set like a million reminders in my phone to make sure I'll be on time)**

 **I won't make any promises, cause life is crazy rn but hopefully starting next week I'll update this story every Monday with a new chapter.**

 **I hope all of you guys are staying safe and entertained during this pandemic. Stay at home when you can and don't forget to call your parents/friends/grandparents/whoever because we're all lonely and bored and talking to each other helps. Wear masks and remember to wash your hands!**

 **Thank you to everyone who reads/reviews/favorites. Reviews really make my day and I read all of them, even if I don't always respond to you guys.**

 **Cheers,**

 **Hartley**


	27. Chapter 27

_Anna_

A scrawny dark hair teenager in a blue striped hoodie and khaki pants slides into the backseat of the impala wearing an unmistakable expression.

"Hi Sam." The teenager glares balefully up at her. Gary - in Sam's body - shifts uncomfortably in his seat, where Sam - in what Anna's guessing is Gary's body - turns his irritation onto the budding wannabe witch.

Dean bursts into laughter, tears pooling in his eyes as he gets a good look at the body his brother had been stuffed into.

"Oh man Gary, I'm freaking pissed at you, but this is _good_." Sam kicked the back of the bench, jolting both Dean and Anna. She flinched at the sudden movement.

"Just drive Dean." She glanced out the window to see two teenagers watching them, a girl and a boy. The boy looked angry, while the girl looked nervous. Gary glanced out the window and spotted them two. He immediately tried to shrink down into his seat, looking ridiculous in Sam's gigantic body.

The engine turned over and still cackling Dean drove away, the two teenagers fading away in the distance.

Between Gary spilling his guts, and the stuff Sam figured out while investigating in Gary's body, the whole story comes tumbling out. A bunch of dumb kids, messing with demons stumbled across a spellbook with real power. They find out about the bounty on Dean's head, and Gary happening to spot them in the diner, and how his friends helped him come up with the ridiculous Freaky Friday body swap plan so that Gary could kill Dean and get some kind of demon deal reward. Anna and Dean exchanged knowing looks. If those kids had actually succeeded in summoning a demon, even in exchange for Dean's life, they would have gotten themselves killed, instead of any sort of reward.

When they get back to their motel room they luckily already have all the ingredients they needed for the reversal ritual. Sam pulled an old, worn, leather bound book from his backpack and handed it over to the kid. It takes Gary less than five minutes to swap the two of them back to normal.

The second the ritual is over, Sam scrambles to his feet to look in a mirror, a relieved sigh huffing out of his body as he carefully pokes and prods his own face, making sure he's really back in his own body. Dean gets to his feet, watching his brother carefully.

"So we good?"

"Yeah, we're good. Oh man, it's nice to be back." Anna smiles at her friend, even though she keeps her eyes trained on the less thrilled looking teenager.

"Yeah. Awesome." He mutters sarcastically. Anna slides off the bed, and crouches down next to Gary. If she didn't know that he had two parents, both biological, she'd have guessed he was a demigod - even if he was too old to be unclaimed at this point. Most mortals wouldn't have been able to gather up enough juice to power a minor levitation spell, let alone a body swap, without some kind of outside force helping them. Spells like the swap he'd pulled on Sam weren't like exorcisms, stuff that anyone with the right words and ingredients could perform. Gary has some real power of his own, and if he trained it right he could grow up to be incredibly powerful. But he'd also already proven that if given the power, he wouldn't use it for anything good.

Better to not tell him what he might have been capable of. Leave him with a warning, and keep him off magic of any kind.

"Gary, messing around with demons is dangerous. It's not fun, it's not a game, and you and your friends could have gotten yourselves or someone else killed. Hell, you and your friends tried to _murder_ ," Gary flinched, but didn't look up at her, "someone. You're just kids, and none of you have any idea what you were messing with. There are lines you nearly crossed, and some that you did cross, that you can't come back from." Dean came up behind her, and Gary got to his feet, looking at the floor sulkily. Anna stood up too.

"Gary." Dean started. Gary sighed and half rolled his eyes, shrugging a little as he started to edge towards the door.

"Yeah, I know. My bad." Dean shook his head, stepping in closer to the teenager.

"My bad?" Dean repeats incredulously, glancing nervously up towards her and Sam. He takes a deep breath, licking his lips nervously before continuing.

"Kid, 'my bad' ain't gonna cut it. See, if you were of voting age, you'd be _dead_. Because we," Dean gestured at the three of them, "would _kill_ you." Gary glances back at her and Sam, eyes widening as he realizes how serious all three of them were.

This is why most demigods don't hunt. Sure they all kill monsters, but its almost always in self defense, or during a quest. Monsters are straight forward; they're black and white, good or bad and killing them is almost always the right thing to do. But humans are different. They're complicated, and filled with a million shades of grey. But this particular shade of grey, had it been just a couple months older, would have been dark enough that she would have had a clear conscience dealing with the problem in a more permanent fashion than they are at the moment.

But a lot of other demigods would not, and she doesn't blame them. Their birthright forces monsters onto them; most half bloods don't want to go and seek out the monsters in humans. And killing mortals stains a soul in a different way than fighting and killing a fellow half blood during the war does. Demigods know that their lives will be short and violent, and they had picked their sides in that war; knew what the consequences of their actions would be. Mortals very rarely do, typically blindly stumbling through a dangerous world.

It's why before she fell into Tartarus, demigods called her when they found a hunt. She would take care of the problem, regardless of the issue, and she wouldn't hesitate.

"So you either straighten up and fly right, or we _will_ kill you. Your friends too." Dean finishes, staring down at the kid. Gary nods fervently, swallowing nervously.

"Are we clear?" Anna asks softly, watching him from her place at Sam's side.

"Crystal." Gary promised.

"Good." Dean growls. Anna scooped up Gary's book, slipping it inside the duffle bag full of the stuff Dean and Sam have been giving her. She wants a second look at the spells inside before she lets the boys incinerate the book. Even though it was likely full of demon magic stuff, there could be a few useful things in there. Starting with why it was important for her to come out east.

She's still not sure why she saw the Huntress constellation point her out this way, but it wasn't for them to take this case. Zoë wouldn't care about them learning about the bounty on Dean's head. There's something else, some other reason why she needed to be out here.

"Anna!" Her head snaps up at the sound of Sam's voice. Everyone was waiting outside by the car, only her still left inside the motel room holding her duffle. She hurried out of the room and raced across the parking lot to get out of the rain that had started to come down. She slid into the car next to Gary, Sam having retaken his customary spot in the front seat. She mindlessly scratches at her bandages, stopping only when Dean glares at her through the rearview mirror.

"Let's go." She said, glancing up at where Zoë would be if the sky wasn't covered in heavy grey rain clouds. Dean puts the car and gear and pulls out, following Sam's careful directions towards Gary's house. She leans her head against the cool window, her eyes sliding shut.

She falls asleep to the comforting purr of the impala's engine, and the soft strains of rock and roll coming from the radio.

* * *

 **AN:**

 **I know this is a second note in two chapter; I try not to have too many An cause I know it's kinda annoying.**

 **But I am sad to have to announce that not even a week after determining to try for a consistent update schedule, that I will not be able to regularly update for at least the next two weeks, and maybe even longer. There was a smallish fire in my apartment a few days ago, and while putting it out, my hands got burned.**

 **The only reason why I'm even able to update this chapter, is that I'd finished writing it before I got hurt. Typing is really difficult for me right now, so I will not be writing or updating until my hands finish healing.**

 **I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, and I will be updating as soon as I can!**

 **As always thank you to everyone who reads/reviews/favorites. Reviews really make my day and I read all of them, even if I don't always respond to you guys.**

 **Cheers,**

 **Hartley**


	28. Chapter 28

_Dean_

He was cleaning his guns when Anna bolted awake, her chest heaving with every shaky breath she took, her mouth opened wide in a silent scream. The motel room was mostly dark, the only light in the room coming from the bathroom, a narrow stripe of yellow falling across his lap so he could see the pieces of his disassembled Colt .45. He carefully lifted the cloth the gun had been resting on and set it aside. Anna swung her legs off the bed, gripping the side of the mattress in her fists.

They'd spent the last week bouncing from motel to motel across the better part of upstate New York. Anna insisted that there was something they needed there, and neither him nor Sam had the heart to force her to stop looking for whatever it was.

Besides they have no leads on how to gank Lucifer, no leads on how to even start trying to _look_ for ways to gank Lucifer, and it wasn't hurting them to indulge her. Plus neither of them know how they're supposed to break the news to Bobby that Anna is not only alive and topside, but has been travelling around with them for almost a month now. Winchesters, kings of avoiding their issues and starting apocalypses.

Besides, Dean is getting more and more worried about her, because while Anna seems to be getting better by the day, at night it sometimes feels like she's getting worse. She's definitely no better at night than she was that night she attacked a hellhound bare handed. Her nightmares are the worst, and getting worse, and he has the bruises to prove it. It's why he's sitting up late, cleaning his gun instead of snoring in bed like Sam. It's also why he doesn't feel nearly as guilty as he should for keeping Bobby and Nico in the dark about Anna.

Anna pushed herself to her feet and padded towards the door, glancing over at Dean only briefly. He stands up to follow her, valiantly keeping his eyes from straying to her ass in the boxers she was currently wearing.

 _'Get it together Winchester. Now is not the time.'_

The door opened silently, which Dean is shocked by, because every time he or Sam had opened it that day, it squealed louder than a sorority girl listening to juicy gossip. A combination of moonlight and the one shitty streetlight in the middle of the parking lot pooled over her, and a rush of cool air filled the room. Sam muttered and turned over in his sleep behind them.

"It's spring." She said softly, staring up at the half full moon. Dean didn't say anything, stepping outside with her and closing the door behind him, wincing at the loud squeal. She folded her arms around herself, looking strangely small in the silvery light. Her t-shirt fluttered in the night breeze and Dean inched closer.

"It's almost time for _pesach._ " The unfamiliar word was strange, the harsh sound soft in her mouth. She traced a hand carefully along the edges of the doorframe, eyes still firmly fixed on the sky.

"I'm not… My mother isn't Jewish, but Dad is. Was. He made sure I knew to say the _shema_ from the moment he started teaching me to hunt, so I would know how to spend my last breath when the time came. Not that it matters, my death and my soul belongs to my mother's gods, but he made sure I learned the words anyways. Sometimes, I can still remember blessings, and sometimes in my dreams I see candlelight." She glanced back at Dean, eyebrows furrowed deeply over her eyes. Her eyes weren't really focused on anything, just away from the sky.

He didn't know that she'd been raised Jewish, or by the sound of it, sorta raised. But it surprises him less then he thinks it should.

 _"Pesach_ celebrates freedom from Egypt. The Hebrews were passed over by the Angel of Death and granted freedom. By the outstretched hand of God they were made free _._ " Her words are harsh and sardonic, bordering on blasphemous with her sarcasm. Dean shifted uncomfortably. They hadn't told Anna yet exactly _how_ he'd been rescued from Hell. They'd just let her assume whatever it was she'd assumed and kept their mouths shut on the existence of angels and Heaven and the fact that the Devil was loose and the Apocalypse is nigh.

"I haven't celebrated in years. I haven't even thought about it. But… this year I was freed too. There was no God to help me, no outstretched hand. I clawed my own way free. But it was still nothing short of a miracle that I managed to survive, and… well, my _abba_ would have found that worth celebrating. I'm not so sure if I do." She sighed and looked away. Her hand curled into a fist, slamming against the doorframe.

 _"Γαμώτο τους θεϊκούς νόμους."_ (Damn the ancient laws) He had no idea what she just said, but the bitter anger in her voice was enough to make him take a step closer to her. They were uncomfortably close to a chick flick moment, but Anna _needs_ him. And he'd run when she'd needed him after the hospital. He'd run and she'd almost died because a hellhound came after her. He can suck it up and be there for her this time; try and make up for abandoning her not once, not even twice, but a half dozen times just between their time in Hell and now.

Plus he'd just learned more about Anna in the last five minutes than he had in the two years they'd hunted together before she'd gone to Hell. And he's more than a little curious to know more.

"Anna-" He started, unsure of what he could say.

"How did you get my deal changed?" She shot him a sharp look. He winced. It seemed like all he was good for is shop talk.

"I'm sorry." He apologized quickly. Anna sighed and shook her head, a sardonic smile crossing her face.

"It's fine Dean. It actually wasn't that hard. I just renegotiated the terms of your deal on your behalf."

"But how?" He insisted. Anna tilted her head back, a loose, almost ditzy giggle escaping her, bubbling right out of her chest. Tears glittered in her eyes, but they didn't fall.

"I read the fine print Dean, and I leveraged my own usefulness against them." He desperately wanted to ask her for more details, but as she blinked slowly, looking away from him in a poor attempt to hide her tears, he stopped himself.

"Anna, I really am sorry." He told her quietly. "I wish I had done more. I _should_ have done more. While we were down there, and then after I got out… I should have done more to get you out too. And even now, in the last few weeks… you've given everything and then some to me and Sammy, and what have I ever done for you?" Anna shook her head, turning back to face him while wrapping her arms around herself with a shiver. Dean shrugged his jacket off and draped it around her trembling shoulders, rubbing her arms gently before backing off.

"You didn't- you don't need to do more Dean. I don't need anything special or extra from you. There's no debt to pay. What I did for you, with the deal, and while we were both down there, I did freely." She told him quietly, staring out at the star studded sky. He leaned against the motel room door, one arm slowly inching around her back. He wished he had the courage to just touch her already, but for some reason Anna made all of his trademark confidence fade away, until he'd regressed back into his early teenage years, to the time before he'd figured out how to pick up girls with nothing more than a suggestive grin and a wink.

"What do you need then?" Anna shifted uncomfortably, tugging the jacket around herself. She finally looked over at Dean; a vulnerability in her eyes that she rarely showed.

"Maybe a hug?" He didn't even hesitate. Anna practically melted into his side as he crushed her seemingly delicate body into him. He tucked her head under his chin, resting his cheek against soft brown curls, his thumb absently rubbing along her shoulder as he held onto her. Her fingers curled near the small of his back, fisting the fabric of his shirt. Her body shook with minute trembles. He tightened his grip on her.

"I'm sorry I left you in Hell." His voice cracked, and Dean desperately tried to reign in his emotions. The moment doesn't need to get any more chick flicky than it already is.

Anna somehow sank even further into his side, her face pressed against his shoulder.

"Where I was, where I went Dean. I wasn't in Hell anymore. It was _worse_. I fell into Tartarus, a place even monsters are afraid of." She admitted quietly, her words so soft he barely heard them. A cold shiver travelled down his spine at the mention of Tartarus.

Anna pulled away from him, and a small pang goes through Dean at the loss of her body against his. She leans against the wall next to him, staring out at the sky again. They stay there in silence for a few minutes, Anna fiddling with the sleeves of his coat while he tries and fails to pretend like he's not watching her like a hawk.

Then she starts talking.

It's mostly random stuff, seemingly insignificant details about her life, or about people in her life. Dean leans against the wall next to her and just listens to her ramble.

He gets it. He never really talks about what happened downstairs either. It makes the memories too real, forces him to remember what happened. Other stuff, superficial stuff is easier. Better. Things to fill the air when the silence is suffocating, and he can't stand the idea of thinking about That Place for even one more second.

She tells him about things like Nico's McDonald's habit, and his odd love of Happy Meals even after he should be way too old for them, or how her brother Malcolm is a slob, while their sister Annabeth is a neat freak. Her brother in law Percy is always the little spoon with Annabeth, and once Anna had walked in on the two of them making out on her bed, half their clothes already on the floor.

Some guy named Mr. D has a secret soft spot for Cadbury Easter chocolates, and some chick named Reyna's favorite color is the orange the sky turns at sunrise.

Her dad taught her how to wield Eleos before she could even lift the sword, and she can count the number of times she's met her mom face to face on one hand with fingers left over. Bobby and Karen used to sing to her when she was small. Anna had loved her motorcycle because of the way the wind roared around and through her and it felt like flying.

Anna used to keep kosher, but when she lost her dad in a fire, most of her father's faith had vanished with him and the only thing she had left of it was a few scattered traditions and a language she threw herself into learning.

A beautiful girl named Silena with eyes as blue as the sky had taught her how to braid her hair, and that same girl with the beautiful eyes had a little sister that hated her sister for dying so much she convinced herself that her sister was evil. Anna paused, her voice hitching over the last thought.

"Do you think Nico hates me? For leaving?" The question hangs frozen in the air between them. Dean honestly can't say. After Anna had closed the Devil's Gate, Nico refused to even speak her name to him. The emo teen could barely even look Dean in the eye, let alone address the topic of the women they both had lo- _cared_ _about_.

An owl hoots softly in the night, and a silver star falls across the sky, passing over the waxing moon.

Anna stiffens.

Dean reaches for his gun, and swears violently in his head as he remembers that his gun was halfway disassembled inside, because he'd been cleaning it before the two of them had gone outside.

There is a girl glowing softly in the moonlight, shimmering with a glow of incandescent brilliance. She looks young, maybe twelve years old, standing in the center of the parking lot. Dark hair fell in gentle waves, framing a pale, heart shaped face, cold bright eyes shining eerily at him from across the dark lot. She'd appeared out of nowhere. Anna pushed off the wall, her eye fixed on the small figure. His coat slides off her shoulders, the heavy leather falling to the ground in a messy heap. He catches her by her uninjured shoulder, pulling her back before she can approach the weird looking girl.

"Anna…" He warns. She shakes him off, and glances over at him with a cautious smile. Tension stood out across her shoulders, and she was shifting nervously in place.

"It's ok. She's why we're here. She's what I was looking for." Dean eyed her suspiciously.

"If that's the thing that's been luring you here, nothing good will come from you going anywhere near it. Let's get inside, we'll wake up Sammy, figure out how to get rid-"

"No." Anna interrupts him, resting her hand on his arm.

"It's ok, she isn't here to hurt me. At least, I don't think so. Go inside Dean. I'll be back soon." Dean stood there frozen as he watched Anna walk barefoot, in a thin white t-shirt and boxer shorts, across the parking lot to the girl. Anna bows her head, and the two of them speak quietly. Anna glances back at Dean once, and smiles reassuringly.

Then the two women walk away.

Dean does nothing to stop them.

* * *

 **AN:**

 **Yay! I'm finally back. Thank you to all the well wishers and everyone who messaged me about my injuries. My hands have mostly healed, and I'm hoping to get back to a regular update schedule. Again I make no promises, but I will do my best to update this story as regularly as I can.**

 **Thank you to everyone who had read, reviewed, followed, and/or favorited. I really do love hearing from you guys.**

 **Stay healthy and safe and wash your hands and wear masks in public!**

 **Cheers,**

 **Hartley**


	29. Chapter 29

_Anna_

Seeing Artemis appear in the middle of the parking lot of the shitty roadside motel they were staying at was a lot more surprising than it should have been. After all, it had been Zoë's constellation that had guided her east.

Dean was standing in front of their motel room, staring after her. If the goddess hadn't been there, Anna has no doubt that Dean would have prevented Anna from wandering off into the night; especially considering that she was leaving with an obviously non-human entity. And she's not wearing shoes.

The cool night wrapped around her shoulders. Before she'd been cold, even with Dean's jacket. But in the presence of the goddess, it all fell away, leaving her only vaguely aware of the discomfort of being outside in only thin sleep clothes.

"My lady." Anna bowed her head to the goddess. The moon goddess nodded back regally.

"Anna. I must say, we were all very impressed that you not only survived as long as you did, but found a way to return." Anna tries not to flinch away at the reminder, and instinctively glances at their surroundings; drinking in the cool, clean night air, the stars in the sky, the ugly neon sign advertising the vacant rooms in the motel. The goddess rests a gentle hand on her shoulder, and a rush of cold concentrated moonlight poured through her. There was no way to describe the feeling.

It was like flying over an endless highway on her bike. The sharp smell of rain on grass. The whisper of trees in a quiet forest. The twang of a bow in her fingers. The weight of a shield on her arm. The howl of a wolf in the night. The soft rustle of trees outside the window.

The tight ball of stress that seemed to always sit on her chest like a ten ton weight melted away with the goddess's blessing, and Anna managed to relax for the first time in what felt like centuries.

"I may not be as skilled as Dionysis when it comes to pains of the mind, but you have suffered enough, and though you do not belong to my Hunt, you are still a huntress in your own right, and thus are under my domain of protection."

"Thank you my lady. Thank you." Anna whispered, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. She knew that tomorrow, her doubts and fears would return. She'll probably always be afraid that she was still trapped in the Pit. But not even the horrors of Tartarus could manipulate a blessing from an Olympian god. This was her proof, the thing she will cling to tightly after her nightmares to remind herself that she really is free.

"Come, we have much to discuss." Artemis turned on her heel, and marched away, melting into a forest that hadn't been there a second ago. Anna glanced back over her shoulder at Dean, who was glaring at the spot Artemis had been standing in. She smiled at him briefly, trying to reassure him before following after the goddess.

They walk in silence through the trees, soft grass under Anna's bare feet. She is viscerally aware of how vulnerable she is, wearing only her thin sleep clothes, and not wearing shoes. But she is with a goddess, in the goddess's domain. Nothing would dare attack them now. The moonlight overhead grows stronger with each step she takes into the forest, lighting a path through the trees.

Just as the light grows shy of blinding, they emerge into an open clearing.

A silver tent stands in the middle of the clearing, and four golden reindeer were grazing beside a silver chariot. The goddess led the way into the warm tent carefully furnished in enough animal skins to give any animal rights activist a heart attack. Anna waited for Artemis to sit down before she sank down onto the soft fur herself.

"The Ancient Laws are very clear Isolde Ventura. Straying into the problems of another pantheon is strictly forbidden." Anna starts at the formal use of her birth name. She hasn't heard it used in decades, not even in the years before she fell into Tartarus.

No one used it, except for Terminus, and even the border god used it sparingly.

"My lady?" She asked quietly. A small bird hopped across the floor and fluttered up to the goddess's shoulder.

"Interference, Isolde. The Winchester's are neck deep in an apocalypse and destiny of their own. You are a child of the Greek pantheon. You cannot be involved." Anna blinked at the goddess, feeling for the first time in her life what it might mean to be dumb and slow.

"Apocalypse?" She repeated slowly. The goddess raised a single flawless eyebrow, silver eyes glittering with silent judgment.

"Yes. Apocalypse. The Christian one I believe. With the angels and demons and Michael and Lucifer. Hades is rather irritated with the no interference clause, as the demons are technically part of his domain, but destiny is destiny, and the Ancient Laws are rather explicit on the matter." Anna's brain finally began to kick into gear, picking over the various pieces of new information.

There had been signs before she'd fallen into Tartarus. Things Azazel had hinted at, weird omens she couldn't quite decipher. And then there's the matter of the destiny her father had drilled into her bones long before she'd learned who and what her mother is.

The Ventura line is old. And she's the last one. Her nightmares, and Eris's cryptic hints in Tartarus, cruel laughter in her voice as she whispered about the discord and pain that was to come.

"But I'm not only of Olympus my lady. My father was a hunter before me, and all my mortal family before him too. I have Ventura blood in my veins, and that means I have every right to be involved. My ancestors were nephilim, born of mortal and godly creations." Artemis smiled, dipping her head in approval. She waved her hand and with a flash of cool moonlight, a familiar battered trunk appeared. A silver key appeared in the palm of the goddess's hand, an owl engraved on the metal.

"You'll find it stocked with everything you need in a quest. Courtesy of a… special sponsor. But beware Anna, this will be the last time our family will be able to help you directly. I pray the Fates will be kind to you. You have done great things in the name of Olympus. Now you must do great deeds in your own name." Anna rose to her feet and bowed, properly this time.

"You honor me, my lady. Thank you." Artemis smiles at her tiredly.

"I do like this world huntress. I'll be rather upset if it ended so soon after we defeated my grandfather and great-grandmother." Anna bowed to the goddess.

"I swear I will do everything in my power to prevent the end from coming." She picked up the trunk, surprised by how light it felt in her arms. The two of them step back out into the clearing. Anna can see the neon glow of the motel in the distance, the low brick building just barely visible through the trees of the sacred forest that isn't really there.

"Not even your mother, in all her wisdom could have predicted your courage, or your path. Beware of the Winchester men hero, but do not lose them. They will guide your destiny, just as you guided theirs before you fell." Anna turned back to look at the goddess, but there was nothing to see in the small clearing but grass and trees.

She took one last deep breath of the clean Wild before beginning her trek back toward the motel's glow.


	30. Chapter 30

_Anna_

She emerged from the fading treeline into the gravel parking lot, the small sharp stones digging uncomfortably into the soft soles of her feet. She shivered in the cold, only just now noticing the chill of the early morning that the night had bled into while she'd been talking to the moon goddess.

A man in a mildly tacky trench coat appeared in front of her, stubble peppered across his cheeks. He tilted his head in an oddly bird like manner, clear blue eyes staring out of the deeply tanned face. The man took a step forward and Anna dropped the trunk, trusting the protections set into the wood to keep anything important from breaking. She slid back into a defensive stance, arms held relaxed at her side, staying light on her toes.

No way was that man-shaped _thing_ human.

"What are you?" Anna hissed, her eyes narrowed. Shadows streamed from his shoulders, clinging to him like phantom limbs, flexing with every movement the not-man made. A high pitched ringing started in her ears, voices whispering at a high pitch. Anna shook her head, _hard_ , trying to dislodge the sound.

She is _not_ crazy. Not right now. Cool silver moonlight still spilled over her shoulders, and the remnants of the Wild she just emerged from still curled in the light breeze that tangled through her hair. Anna is the most stable she's been in weeks. Possibly even years.

"I am Castiel. I am an Angel of the Lord." Anna tensed, staring in shock. That's not good news.

"You're kidding." She deadpanned. The angel took a step closer, and Anna raised her fists in warning. She doesn't believe in coincidences; and Artemis had _just_ told her about the Apocalypse. Then suddenly there's an angel waiting for her? No way.

"Have faith, Anna Colt." She might believe in angels, but she wasn't naive enough to believe that angels were on the side of humanity. Belief and worship are two very different things. Thunder boomed ominously, and she internally snorted at the melodrama. The shadows streaming from his back stretched out, throwing a pair of massive wings into relief against the side of the motel.

"Oh, I have faith. Doesn't mean you're not a threat." She warned. She might not be armed for fighting a celestial being; she needs Eleos or another weapon made from a celestial metal for that. But she would still put up a hell of a fight. Ventura blood was good for something.

Castiel held out his hands in front of him, the universal gesture declaring that he was unarmed, and didn't intend to hurt her. Anna didn't relax. Even angels can lie.

"Dean and Sam called me. They said you disappeared with an unknown creature into a false forest." Anna snorted. If there was one thing she knew about the boys besides their insane codependency on the other, was their equally insane anti anything not human beliefs. No way the boys were working with something that's not human.

"Try again. The day Sam and Dean trust something that's not human, is the day the world ends." She realized the complete irony of the statement the second it left her lips. According to Artemis, her boys were smack dab in the center of the next end of the world scheme.

The angel gave her a weird half shrug.

"The Apocalypse _is_ coming." He offered placidly. She laughed bitterly, her eyes narrowing as she continued to glare at the angel.

"Tell me something I haven't already figured out." She challenged, lifting her chin up high. She still felt super charged by the blessing of Artemis. The moon still rode high in the sky, silver light falling across her in a gentle reminder of the goddess's quiet support. All the pain and fear she'd inherited in her time in Tartarus has temporarily melted away, leaving behind only a cool certainty that she doesn't need to be holding a weapon to win this fight.

There is a very good reason she survived all those years in the Pit.

"I mean you no harm." The angel insisted again. Anna wasn't naive enough to believe him. She could see the way he was angled to the left, the sleeve on his right arm folded out to conceal some kind of bladed weapon. Anna narrowed her eyes.

He didn't look like he was lying. But she also didn't know how to read the inhumanity written all across the angel's face. The being inside the meat suit had no idea how to wear it. It was like putting Nico in a tux. Utterly foreign, and vaguely uncomfortable.

"Prove it. Drop the weapon." She ordered coldly. The angel's eyes widened, his entire face opening up. Anna relaxed slightly at the expression. He wasn't a good liar then. A three sided blade slipped out from Castiel's sleeve, and he carefully set it on the ground. She stared at him unimpressed. The angel toed the blade, sending it skittering across the gravel out of immediate reach.

Anna isn't stupid enough to believe that the angel couldn't reach, or even create, another weapon in order to attack her if he wanted too. But it would still require a split second of separate focus. And that would be all Anna needs to take him down if she had too. But the gesture was nice, and made her want to trust him a little more. Not that she would; not until the angel proved itself over and over and over again. And maybe not even then.

Trust is a skill Anna has always struggled with.

The high pitched whispers grew louder and Anna hissed, grabbing at her head in irritation. Castiel takes a step forward. Anna's attention snaps back to him and she matches him by stepping back, her arms raised defensively again. The noise is irritating, but manageable. Years in Hell and in Tartarus have taught that just about anything is manageable in the face of a bigger threat. Castiel freezes in place again. His shock has been replaced with a mildly curious, but mostly blank expression.

"You can hear us?" Soft wonder fills the rough voice. Anna's eyes narrow.

"Hear who?" She demands. Castiel's expression hardens. The sound gets louder, ringing in her ears; like a thousand voices overlapping at once. Information downloading into her head with every squawking word.

"What are you?" The angel demands, shifting his stance. Anna can practically smell the rush of power he's gathering; limited though it seems to be.

The angel is about to attack.

"The person who's going to kick your ass." She snarls back. Anna dove for the sword the angel had dropped, snatching it up into her hand and rolling to her feet. Castiel brandishes a second blade, and with a yell the two of them collide with a clashing of metal.

She easily blocks his first two attacks. She knocked his sword aside, creating openings for her to lash out with her hands and feet. The two of them are blurs of motion exchanging punches and kicks as easily as they hack and slash at each other with their respective blades.

Anna slashed across the angel's chest, forcing him to jump back to avoid the blow. She dropped low, twisting to the side, her right knee popping as she forced too hard a turn out of it. Her shoulder impacted the angel's knees, sending him crashing to the ground. Anna leapt up, ignoring the burning pain in her knee, and attempted to stab down on the angel.

Castiel rolled out of the way. She pressed her advantage, gripping the blade with both hands, levelling a series of brutal attacks on him, preventing the angel from getting back to his feet. He scrambled backwards desperately, sending gravel flying in all directions as he moved, just barely holding off her attacks.

Castiel threw a handful of gravel at her, and when she ducks to keep the dirt from getting in her eyes, he manages to pop back onto his feet. He charges forward, and she wasn't fully prepared for the attack. He slams into her head on, sending her flying back into the side of the Impala.

Her breath hissed through her teeth, jaw clenching as she suppressed the urge to howl in pain. Instead she slashed out with the sword, pushing the angel back. The door to the motel room slams open, both of the Winchester boys spilling out of the fully lit up room. Anna angles herself so that the boys were safely protected behind her, pressing forward to attack the surprised angel.

"CAS! ANNA! STOP!" Dean's bellow has Castiel freezing. Anna takes advantage of the distraction, efficiently disarming the angel and sending him to his knees. She points both swords directly at the angel's exposed throat. Her heavy pants steam into the cool morning air, clouds of vapor curling around her face. She's cold.

Two sets of heavy footsteps come skidding to a stop behind her.

"Anna…" Sam's voice is soft, placating. She nudged the angel's chin higher, lightly digging the point of one sword into his neck.

"I am assuming, since this is your weapon, it can kill you." Her voice is low. Dangerous. Every instinct inside of her is screaming at her to kill the threat. To put him down now so that he cannot come back to try to kill her tomorrow.

Castiel asked _what_ she was, not who.

Ventura blood is old and dangerous and forbidden. It's also her ticket into the apocalypse her friends have gotten themselves front row seats to.

That's not the problem.

Her problem is that she's a demigod. And the boys are mortal hunters, a detail that she's never allowed herself to forget. And with her sanity not fully intact, she can't be certain if she can defend herself if they decide to put her down like a rabid dog. She's not entirely sure she would try to stop them if they did.

"Yes. It can hurt me." The angel responsed blandly. As soon as the boys had arrived, he'd relaxed. Or relaxed as much as anyone could with two sharp swords pointed at their neck.

"Anna, easy. Don't gank Cas. He's a friend." Anna's head tilted to the side, coldly studying the celestial creature inhabiting the human body before her.

"He's possessing someone." Dean came around and rested his hands over hers, wrapping around the grip of the swords. He gently tried to pry the weapons out of her hands.

"I know." Anna's grip on the sword tightened. She shouldered Dean off of her, fixing him with a harsh glare.

"You _know?_ " She demanded. Dean exchanged tired looks with Sam and the angel - apparently nicknamed Cas. When the hell did the Winchester boys trust something that not only wasn't human; but an inhuman being that was _possessing a person._

"Yeah we know. And angels can't possess a person without permission Anna. Jimmy, the guy Cas is wearing? He said yes to this, he agreed to be a vessel." Anna laughed, dropping the swords and stumbling back from the trio. She doubled over laughing, her breath wheezing out of her and tears pooled in her eyes. She'd forgotten how little the boys actually knew about how the supernatural world worked. The Winchesters might have been hunting all their lives, but they still joined this world of monsters. Anna is a native.

"Angels only have to _hear_ the word yes _._ Doesn't mean someone actually agreed Dean. Fun fact, coercion isn't consent. For all you know _Jimmy_ was threatened into saying yes." She shook her head and turned away from them, tilting her head to look up at the sky. She could feel the blessing of Artemis sinking into her skin, the power slowly dissipating as she absorbed what little the goddess can give her beyond this one evening.

Anna limped away from the three silent men, making her way over to her trunk, left abandoned where she'd dropped it before her scuffle with the angel began. She ignored the three sets of footsteps behind her, hauling the trunk into her arms. She marches to the motel room, and drops the trunk at the door. She finds the duffle bag Sam and Dean had made into hers and pulled out a pair of sweats and a jacket. She tugged on the clothes and shoved her feet without socks into the beat up sneakers they'd given her.

Anna turns around to walk back out the door to see her way barred by all three men. She slung the bag across her chest before folding her arms.

"Move." She demanded. Anna would stop this apocalypse all by herself if she has too. But she has no intention of doing it anywhere near an angel - not when it had been one of his kind that had saddled her family with destiny.

Especially because this angel could expose her secrets.

Besides, it was probably better this way. She's half crazy and if the boys have to worry about her, it might get them killed. And she's always worked best alone. If she can get to one of her safe houses - there are at least three within a four hour drive of her current location - she'll have the resources she needs to hunt down and stop the devil.

"No." Dean insisted, stepping into the room. Anna shifted on her feet, ready to bolt if she had to. Who knows what that angel has told them while they were all outside.

"Get out of my way Dean. Whatever Castiel has told you, angels aren't on your side. They're probably just as excited for the final battle to start as the demons. It's literally their Function to fight in wars. And there hasn't exactly been any celestial wars for them to fight in since Lucifer fell millennia ago." She warned him darkly.

"I rebelled. I tried to stop the apocalypse before it even began, and I have been expelled from Heaven's Grace." Anna froze and looked up at the angel. She stared at him, at the wispy shadows trailing from from his shoulders, and the exhaustion that seemed alien on the celestial's borrowed face.

"No you didn't. You aren't Fallen." She pointed out tightly. All three of them looked confused. She stepped up the the angel, eyes narrowed as she studied his face.

Diminished certainly, but definitely not Fallen.

"I _have_ Fallen. I am cut off from Heaven and much of Heaven's power. They have removed me from the Holy Host." Castiel explained, pain and frustration evident on his face. It seemed that the angel really _was_ sincere in wanting to help prevent the end of days.

Anna snorted, shaking her head.

"Angels can obey or die. Clearly you're still a living angel, so you haven't disobeyed anyone important. You don't have free will like humans do. If you'd Fallen, you'd be a demon. The other angels don't have the power to make you Fall by cutting you off from Heaven. Did you directly disobey God?" Cas froze, processing the implications of her words.

"I have not. I disobeyed my superiors." She pulled the bag off her shoulder and dropped it back to the floor. This angel apparently tried to exercise free will to stop the apocalypse. That explains why the boys trust him. Anna still doesn't trust him. But she won't leave because he's trying to help. She's not that much of a bigot.

Anna sits down on the bed, dropping her head into her hands, grinding the heels of her palms into her eyes. Every inch of her body ached from the beating she took while fighting the angel. Next time she decides to follow a goddess in the middle of the night, Anna is going to put her shoes on first.

With a heavy sigh she straightens back up, eyeing the two men and the angel standing across from her. If they're going to fight the devil, they're going to need every resource they can muster. Which means she's going to have to teach Castiel how to reopen his connection with Heaven. She can't exactly let the angel try and fight the apocalypse without his full strength.

Unlike most of her siblings, Anna doesn't allow her _hubris_ to blind her. Without the angel, their chances of survival -let alone victory - plummets to zero.

"Castiel you're still an angel. You're not Fallen. That's something only you can cause for yourself. No angel, however high up the chain of command they are, can expel you. Until you've Fallen, until you become a _demon_ , you still have full access to Heaven's Grace. Just find the connection between you and Heaven, find it deep inside of you, and open it wide again." The angel doesn't move, just staring at her with a dumb expression on his face.

She sighed heavily and patted the bedspread next to her.

"Come here. I'll help you." Castiel stiffly walked forward and sat down next to her, his spine ramrod straight. Anna looked directly into his clear blue eyes, raising both of her hands to his head.

The rush of whispered voices filled her head.

Anna dismisses the noise for now. She's figured out who, or rather _what_ , the voices are, but they're aren't helpful for what Castiel needs to do, and they won't help her help him accomplish his goals. She can consider the repercussions of tuning into the angelic version of soup cans and string later.

"Close your eyes." She ordered, glancing towards the boys out the corner of her eyes to include Sam and Dean in that order. When Castiel reopens his connection to Heaven, he would likely take on the angelic version of a Divine Form. Which if it was anything like the gods, directly witnessing an angel's Divine Form would kill, or at the very least deeply maim, anyone who looked at it directly.

She waited until everyone closed their eyes before closing her own. Anna presses her fingertips against the angel's temples hard, and takes a deep breath.

"The connection to Heaven, it's here. It's yours. Other angels can try to close it off, but you can reopen that connection. Remember, that connection is yours. The only one with the authority to cut you off is your Father." She tells the angel. She feels Castiel nod seriously in her hands. She takes a slow breath, centering her nerves. She reminds herself that Ventura blood gives her the right to interfere in the affairs of another pantheon. It doesn't help quell the stress burning a hole through her wildly beating heart.

"Dean, no peeking." There's an indignant huff behind her. She smiles slightly, and gently presses her fingers against Castiel's head even harder.

The whispers in her head grow louder into a chorus of voices, singing a song without words. The melody is ancient and soothing, thundering in tempo with her heartbeat and twisting around and through her with every breath she takes. Underneath the music is a rush of voices, thousands and thousands of overlapping voices; orders, commands, and information being shot across time and space and dimensions in an instant.

A bright white light fills the room, and Anna can see the red veins in her eyelids. She keeps her eyes tightly closed. She can only hope that both Sam and Dean were doing the same. Warm air rushed through the room, smelling like a greenhouse and a rainbow lightshow starts up in front of her. She can see the colors play across her eyelids, the light blinding even though her eyes are closed. Castiel's vessel burns under her hands, even though it doesn't hurt.

When the light finally dies down, Anna slowly opens her eyes, blinking bright spots out of her vision.

Tears streamed down Castiel's face, his blue eyes glowing with Grace. His expression is filled with wonder and relief as his fully restored wings flexed behind him; shadowy rainbows streaming from his shoulders. The feathers shivered, flickering as though they were made of flames.

"How did yo-" Anna smiled tightly at the angel.

"I didn't do anything. Clearly God doesn't think you did anything wrong enough to warrant an expulsion from Heaven. Like I said, angels can obey or die. There isn't a third option."

"Thank you." Castiel reached up and held her head in his hands; mirroring her own position from a few minutes ago. Tipping his head forwards he gently pressed a kiss onto her forehead. Panic shot through her, but she didn't pull away fast enough.

"Be healed."


	31. Chapter 31

_Anna_

She doesn't even remember screaming. Power flooded through Anna, and she ripped herself away from the angel, collapsing when her body refused to support her. It was like being doused in the fires of the Phlegethon, like burning motor oil and hot sauce were forcibly injected into her veins. Like a thousand suns burned under her skin. Like her bones were disintegrating into ash. Like wood splinters danced under her skin, like a thousand lashes healed with careless nectar, like glass striping skin from bone, like a wildfire burning so hot it seared her skin from fifty feet away while a friend died in agony.

She collapsed to the floor, landing on her bad shoulder, a strangles scream tearing out of her throat, the noise scraping against her vocal cords, stripping them bare. She curled into a ball, her whole body convulsing in pain.

 _"ANNA!"_

"CAS WHAT DID YOU DO?"

"I do not know!"

"ANNA!" She couldn't even lift her head to acknowledge Dean's desperate voice. The foreign wrongness of Castiel's healing scorched through her. Following behind the burning pain was something almost worse; a skin crawling intimacy, settling inside her brain and squeezing tightly inside her skull. It was cold and numb and carried with it a tidal wave of nightmares. She twitched feebly on the floor, tears streaming down her face. Rough hands encircled her shoulders, pulling her up into an approximation of a seated position.

"Cas, whatever you did FIX IT!"

"I do not know how!" The angel sounded frantic. She pried her eyes open, tears clinging to her eyelashes as she tried to peer around the room.

She choked on the air as she tried to speak, pained whimpers slipping out of her mouth with every movement she made. Castiel was standing in awkward horror in a corner, while both Dean and Sam hovered over her. Dean squeezed her gently every time her body shook. Grounding her, trying to tether her to a world outside of the pain.

Anna's useless if she can't think.

She spots the half open door of the room, and the worn leather corner of her trunk sitting on the concrete outside the room. An idea flashed into her tortured brain.

Artemis did say it was fully stocked for a quest.

"Trunk!" She gasped out, air hissing through her teeth. Sam lunged across the floor. She jerked in Dean's arms, and let out a hoarse cry. She shoved a shaking hand into her pocket, fingers curling around the key. Sam came sprinting back across the room, dragging the trunk with him.

For a brief moment she hesitated. That trunk had once been her entire life in a box. Weapons, journals, magic ingredients and tools, letters of recommendation, pictures of her friends, of her siblings. Could she trust the boys with its contents?

Then another painful spasm wracked her body and she dropped the key to the floor with a quiet clunk. Sam snatched it up, trying to shove it into the paddock keeping the contents of the trunk safe and secret. His hands were shaking so badly he missed the lock twice before he managed to open the trunk.

"Anna, what do you need?"

"Thermos." She whispered. She could only pray that there was a thermos of nectar inside. Without it, she's as good as dead. If she tried to eat any ambrosia now, she'd probably bite her own tongue off or choke. A cold numb feeling began to creep up through her limbs; combating the fiery pain that had been racing through her veins. It felt a little like standing on the precipice between Tartarus and the realm of Chaos, near Nyx's palace. She felt tired, like she could be unmade in the eternity of Chaos and be at peace with it.

At least she got to see the sun again one more time.

Sam tossed a silver thermos to Dean who caught it with one hand. He unscrewed the top carefully, sniffing the contents. He glanced at the container dubiously, and glanced down at her. Dean tilted the edge towards his mouth.

 _"NO!"_ She shrieked, energy surging back into her as she panicked. He froze at her voice. He glanced down at her, his eyebrows drawn low on his face.

"Anna is this dangerous?" He asked warningly. She shifted in his lap, her eyelids dragging lower and lower by the second.

"Not to me." She admitted, her words slurring together. She felt a soft pressure under her neck. Her eyes flicked up to see a worried looking Sam, carefully timing her pulse. Castiel had also moved closer, surprise and understanding dawning on his face. Somewhere very far away, deep down in the darkest recesses of her mind, a klaxon alarm was blaring, warning her of danger. Anna blinke slowly, wondering why she was trying so hard to stay awake anymore. The pain had faded, leaving very little behind. Anna's not entirely sure what they're even doing. Why is she laying on the floor?

Her eyes drifted closed. She's tired. So very tired.

"Dean give to her _now."_ The angel warned. "She is dying." Anna's head dropped lazily to the side, her eyes half closed.

Peace flooded her.

At least this way she has a shot at Asphodel, or maybe Elysium if she was _really_ lucky. She can die free, and not eternally trapped in horrors of Tartarus. She felt like she was floating. Her world narrowed to the warm yellow light slowly filtering into the room through the grimy window as the world finally broke into day, and silence descended over her, echoing oddly in her ears.

It was almost peaceful.

A warm hand cupped her cheek. Rough gun callouses scratched at her skin. Cold metal touched her lips, and someone coaxed her into drinking. The warm salty flavor of soup filled her mouth, and candlelight and quiet blessings flickered in the back of her mind. An overwhelming sense of security enveloped her, and Anna's tense body relaxed a fraction.

The warmth and energy from the nectar rushed through her, burning away the cold numb disinterest that had flooded her body. But the near painful heat from before was back. Fire burning through her cells, flooding her body with adrenaline. Anna was suddenly, and viscerally aware, of every tense fiber in her body, of the itch in the healing cells in her feet, her knee, across her skin, as injuries knit themselves closed, and combated the damage of hybrid magic and mixed blessings. The chaos of Castiel's healing and Artemis's blessing settled, her system resetting back to demigod normal with the healing factor of the nectar.

Her eyes snapped open just as Castiel snatched the thermos away from Dean's hand. She coughed, inhaling some of the godly drink down the wrong pipe. The angel screwed the cap of the thermos back on tightly before tossing it back into the trunk, eyeing the container with mistrust. Dean helped her sit up, rubbing her back soothingly as she continued to cough, gasping for breath.

"Anna?" She waved a hand to the side, indicating that she was fine. Sam slumped to the floor, sighing heavily. Dean kept one arm wrapped around her as Anna finally managed to catch her breath.

She finally pushed herself into a seated position, her knee bouncing on place with excess energy. Looking around she saw caught the worried expressions of all three men. She managed a weak smile, ignoring how feverish she was feeling. If Castiel hadn't snatched the nectar away when he did, she probably would have overdosed on the stuff.

"I'm fine." She reassured them weakly. A laugh huffs through her aching chest when all three men scoff. Anna tried to push herself to her feet, determined to prove it, but a wave of vertigo sent her careening to the side. Dean catches her, carefully propping her up as she blinked, trying to reorient her world so that up and down stayed where they belonged.

"Anna, you're not fine. What the hell was that?" Dean asked her. She didn't turn her head to meet his eyes. Her world was still spinning.

"Just need everything to stop spinning. Then I'll be fine." She deflects, patting absently at Dean's arm where it was wrapped around her waist. He shifts beside her, the back of his hand pressed against her forehead.

"Jesus, she's burning up." Anna batted his hand away. It would go away. She'd had the wrong kind of divinity try to heal her, then nearly OD'd on the correct type of divine healing. Side affects were most definitely included. Honestly, they were lucky that all she was currently experiencing was vertigo and a smallish fever.

"It'll pass. There's a good reason why that stuff's only for emergencies." She muttered, one hand pressed hard against her temples. There was movement somewhere in the room, but Anna ignored it. For right now, one of the boys, or their resident angel could handle any potential threats. She's busy trying to keep the contents of her stomach on the inside of her body.

Sam appeared in the corner of her eyes, a glass of water in his hand. She smiled weakly at him, and accepted the cup. She sipped slowly, swallowing hard against the rising bile twice. It took her nearly five minutes to finish the whole cup, but by the end of it, the feverish feeling in her body had dissipated, and the spinning in her head had mostly stopped.

 _"Di immortales_. Let's never do that again." She groaned, lifting her head back up to face the room. Outside the window, she could see that sunrise had come and gone, Apollo's chariot fully in the morning sky.

"What the hell happened Anna? Who the hell was that woman? Cas couldn't even sense where in the world you were until you reappeared in the parking lot. And what the hell was that in that thermos? How did yo-" Anna cut off Dean's barrage of questions.

"One at a time Dean." She practically begged. She also became suddenly aware of how close he was sitting to her. She pressed her lips tightly together, repressing the embarrassment that briefly flicked through her as she realized exactly how vulnerable she'd been with Dean; and the others, but mostly with Dean, last night.

For Zeus's sake, she'd asked him for a hug!

Anna carefully shifted on the bed, breaking contact with Dean and leaning back against her hands. She refused to acknowledge the regret she felt at the loss of his body against hers. Once, she might have leaned into it - Anna hadn't been oblivious to Dean's attraction to her before she'd jumped through the Devil's Gate, and she'd caught him staring often enough since she's gotten back - but really nothing had changed since the night she'd kicked his ass sneaking into Sam's Stanford apartment.

The stakes are too high to allow anything to happen. Dean is a dangerous distraction for her. She'd be the same for him; a one night stand who follows him around on hunts.

It's safer this way; for both of them. She's already attached to the boys as it is.

"Anna, why did Cas's mojo do, whatever the hell-" Anna tried not to flinch at the word, but Sam caught it anyways, "that was. It's never hurt me or Dean before." She sighed, and stared at her hands.

She can't tell them the real reason. Mixing pantheons was always dangerous; it was why after Cater, Sadie, Percy, and Annabeth had their little Greco-Egyptian adventure, Anna and the gods of both pantheons worked doubly hard to separate the two worlds. It's why after Percy and Annabeth discovered the existence of the _aesir_ and _vanir_ pantheons; she'd forced them to swear on the Styx to never tell the rest of the demigods about their existence.

The Grace of Castiel's God was dangerous when mixed with her demigodly heritage.

The weird part is; that the Ventura blood should have helped her. But she had a feeling that the nephilim ancestry was equally at fault with whatever it was that Castiel's attempt at healing had done to her. But that would be a mystery for another day.

"Honestly? I don't know. I have a few ideas, but nothing concrete." Sam and Dean both kept looking at her pointedly, but Anna didn't volunteer any additional information.

Castiel shot her a hard look, but Anna ignored him entirely. She's played this game before; under higher and more dangerous stakes. At least if the Winchesters figure out she's not fully human, they'll kill her. Unlike some of the other groups she's had to infiltrate, Sam and Dean won't torture her if she's caught. They'll just shoot her.

And while she doesn't want to die, she's not particularly afraid of death.

"What I want to know more about is the apocalypse." She didn't bother to look up at the effect her verbal nuclear bomb had on the three men. Even if Artemis hadn't told her about it, she'd already known that the boys had been hiding something big from her. And then Castiel - a freaking angel - had shown up in the parking lot

"How-" Anna shook her head lightly.

"It was rather obvious, considering the drama happening in, uh, in H-" she stumbled over the word, hating herself for the terror the very mention of the place infused in herself.

"Anna…" Her lips thinned into a smile. Sam didn't look like he bought it, but didn't say anything more. She took a deep breath, shoving away the anxiety thinking of Tartarus always brought her. Behind Castiel's left shoulder, the motel wall flickered. For a moment the harsh smell of brimstone and sulfur filled her nose, and craggy cliffs appeared behind the angel.

Anna fisted her hands into the motel sheets behind her, silently reminding herself of Artemis's blessing. She is out. She's free. Anna took another deep breath, working to stay calm.

"Demons and monsters were all riled up dow- down there. I heard plenty of hints and taunts about the destruction of seals before I got out. And Castiel told me about it in the parking lot before he attacked me."

"I did not _attac-"_ Anna ignored the outraged angel.

"So what are we doing about the end of the world?" Her heart sinks as she watches all three men exchange hopeless looks.

"We have no idea." Sam admitted quietly. Anna huffed a laugh.

"Well that's just _great."_


	32. Chapter 32

_Sam_

It had been three days since Anna's most recent round of sanity had shattered.

He glanced into the rearview mirror, checking on Anna curled up in the backseat, humming a soft melody to herself as her eyes darted around the car, flinching away from hallucinations in her mind. He was hopeful though. Every time she came back to herself, it lasted longer and longer, and more and more of her former self returned. This time she'd lasted almost a week and a half.

Sam tries to turn his attention back to the notebook in his lap, but his brain is still firmly set on Anna and her weirdness. Before her sanity had vanished under a tide of screaming nightmares and several weird interactions with poodles, Anna had given the three of them access to the contents of her battered trunk.

He'd recognized it as the same steamer trunk she'd kept her things hidden inside of at Stanford and Bobby's house. Sam was also sure that they'd given Nico the trunk; even though none of them had access to the key, and both her siblings and Bobby had been wary of trying to force the lock. Dean had mentioned trying and failing to pick it open on multiple occasions. They'd all just resigned themselves to never knowing what was inside.

Until now.

Anna had rearranged the contents, and forced both him and Dean to swear on their parent's graves that they wouldn't dig too deeply into her stuff. Sam wasn't too sure how long that promise would keep Dean out of her things. Sam wasn't sure how long that promise would keep _him_ out.

Their questions about Anna, and her past, were piling up quickly and they'd only been compounded by the events at the little roadside motel where she and Cas had met for the first time.

While Anna had been missing for those three highly stressful hours, Cas had told them that she'd been taken by a powerful entity, and that he couldn't see where she was. Then she just reappears in the parking lot, carrying a familiar looking trunk that Sam _knows_ they gave to her adoptive brother, and then fights and nearly kills an angel. When Anna had told them she would give them access to the trunk, Sam had hoped that some of his questions would finally be answered.

Instead he has even more questions now, and absolutely no answers at all. Because inside her freaking trunk, Anna had a book collection that would have Bobby begging on his knees. He wasn't entirely sure where she had managed to lay her hands on some of the books she had in there; most of them he'd only ever heard faint rumors about. Some he'd literally never even heard off. It was a damn impressive collection.

Equally as impressive were all of the translations and notes she'd made. There were dozens of sticky notes and note cards and torn out sheets of paper caught between the pages of the books. Or rather, Sam was assuming it was impressive, since he couldn't actually _read_ her notes and translations. Everything in that trunk was in some kind of code.

And then there was her notebook. Hell, he didn't even know what language half the notebook is written in - let alone trying to figure out how to break the cipher -but based on what little he could recognize, let alone understand, it was a hunter's wet dream.

Between the innocuous worn leather covers of the journal, there were pages and pages dedicated to the hunt. She detailed different ways of layering things like Devil's Traps with banishing circles, how to sketch protections into the foundations of a building, different ways to trap and destroy demons. Sam isn't entirely sure what half of the monsters in her journal even were. It actually kinda explained the scary amount of knowledge she had on hunts they'd gone on together.

He recognized exorcisms in more than a dozen languages, and notes on every type of fugly she's ever come in contact with, heard of or otherwise needed to know about, along with what Sam is guessing is a cliff's notes version of what to look for and how to kill it. There were references to monsters and ghosts and demonic creatures and deities and a dozen other supernatural entities Sam has never even _heard_ of.

There were hunters who would give an arm and a leg for the information contained in the pages of her journal; let alone access to the rest of her library.

He'd always known that Anna was good, it was obvious she'd lived in the hunt for her whole life, but Jesus, the woman was downright scary. And a genius. That much was shockingly clear. He had always known Anna was brilliant, she had to be to even get into Stanford, let alone double major there. But the work he was finding in her journals, the research and translations that were carefully tucked in between the pages of the texts he found in her trunk… If there was a Nobel Prize for hunting monsters, Anna definitely would have won it. Possibly more than once.

The worn pages were warm under his fingertips, the crinkling pages indented with neat looping letters. His biggest problem at the moment was the fact that he had no idea how to even begin to try and break her cipher. She'd written her journals in code, switching between several languages, several of which he didn't even recognize. The only person who even had a shot at attempting to read her journal without her help or permission was maybe Bobby.

He turned the page, skimming past the notes, looking at the diagrams and detailed sketches Anna had included in each entry. Sam paused, fingers tracing the feathered wings spread across the page. Sections of feathers were circled, notes scribbled into the margins, and underneath were some cartoonish gates.

Sam's breath caught in his throat, hands freezing over the entry.

Anna had known that angels existed. Before she'd come back from Hell. Before she'd even jumped in. Sam forced himself to take a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly before examining the entry again.

Angels, and how she knew that they existed, would have to be yet another question to ask her when she was lucid next. Not that Sam could even be sure that she'd bother to answer any of them. Most of the past few days while she'd still had a good grip on her own mind, Anna had brushed off or deflected their questions, from where she'd gotten her trunk from, to the weirdness surrounding her brief disappearance the night she'd gotten it back, to the supposedly dangerous substance in the thermos. That one was really nagging Sam.

What could be so dangerous to Dean, but also miraculously heal Anna from whatever it was that Cas's failed healing did to her?

Dean pulled the car over into the parking lot of yet another motel. They were finally making their way back west again, heading towards Bobby. Now that Anna's sanity was making longer and longer appearances, and that she knows about the apocalypse, it was as good a time as any to regroup and restart their efforts to ice the devil.

His brother tossed him the keys to the Impala before heading towards the front office to get their rooms. Sam closed the journal and tucked it into the side of his bag before smoothly stepping out of the car. Slinging the duffle bag over his shoulder, he carefully opened the back door to start trying to coax Anna out of the backseat.

"Room five Sammy." Dean called behind him. Sam barely grunts in response.

"C'mon Anna. You're not down there anymore. You're safe, topside. With me, and Dean. Cas is around sometimes too remember?" He coaxed. Anna tucked herself tighter into a ball, shivering. Her eyes were fixed somewhere just above his shoulder, and every few seconds her head ducked down; like she was hiding from something.

He shrugged out of his jacket, and held it in front of the door, blocking out her view of the sky.

"Here Anna, I'll cover you." He offered temptingly. She let out a pained whimper and skittered nervously on the seats. Sam did his best to repress his exhausted sigh. It wasn't Anna's fault that she was like this, couldn't help that her memories of Hell would juxtapose themselves over her current reality. That fear turned her back into little more than a rabid feral animal.

But it was still hard, and incredibly frustrating. And painful. Sam could hardly bring himself to look at her when she was this bad.

"I got this Sammy." Sam jumped, banging his head on the roof of the Impala as Dean clapped a hand on his shoulder. Rubbing his head he backed away from the car. He watched as Dean crawled into the backseat with Anna and watched as his older brother patiently coaxed her out of the car, leading her gently towards their already unlocked motel room. Sam shut the doors and grabbed both Anna and Dean's bags out from the car before locking it.

It never stopped amazing him how oblivious the two of them still were.

Dean became a whole new person around her; soft and gentle. Something that he's really only seen his brother be like around little kids, and occasionally when Sam's hurt and doped up to the eyeballs with drugs. And no matter what was in Anna's past, Sam just hoped that she recovers properly someday. Because she and Dean deserved to be happy; whether they got together or not.

Following the two of them into the room, he dropped all three bags by the front door. Doing a quick sweep of yet another ugly motel room, he noted both the two queen sized bed covered in an eye watering neon green sheets, the tiny but shockingly clean looking bathroom, and the thick salt lines Dean had already laid down along all the windows. Anna was curled up on the bed furthest from the door, humming to herself as she stared cautiously around the room.

"Sam." His hand shot out automatically as his brother tossed him the container of salt. Closing the door, Sam carefully lined the doorway with a thick line to keep out any of the low level nasties. The door to the bathroom slammed shut as Dean headed for a shower.

Sam just hoped that Dean wouldn't use up all the hot water. Again.

He dropped Anna's journal onto the second bed and slumped down on the sheets. Tonight it would be his turn to stay up and keep an eye on Anna while she sleeps, and Dean's to take the bed. Ever since Sam found out that Dean had been staying up late at night to keep watch over Anna, he insisted on the two of them swapping off every other night. He knew his brother still had nightmares - hell they'd both always had nightmares from all the crap they see while doing this job, but Dean's were of Hell. Not unlike Anna, only Anna wasn't always together enough to try avoiding sleep to avoid the dreams. At least by insisting that Anna was his friend too, he was able to force Dean to get at least a little shut eye, no matter how fraught they were by the horrors of Hell.

"Sam?" He startles so badly he falls of the bed in a tangle of limbs and blankets.

"Anna!" He pops back to his knees as quickly as he can, trying to look dignified. Sam is pretty sure he's failing epically at the dignity thing. Anna's head rolls to the side, her gaze fixed on the ceiling.

"I've been fighting for so long Sam. When will it stop?" She asked faintly, her voice soft and low and Sam's heart breaks just a little bit for his friend. He sighed, slumping back against the bed, kicking the tangled sheets off of his legs.

"Soon, Anna. Soon." He lied soothingly. She nodded, closing her eyes tiredly. He knew she didn't believe him. Anna's chest rose a fell steadily with each slow, even breath she takes. Sam knows better than to believe she's asleep yet though. That won't come until both him and Dean are in the same room where she can keep an eye on them, while also monitoring the door.

He opens the journal up again, thumbing through the pages of jibberish. Until Anna is able to translate for them again, the notebook was next to useless. Sam flips back to the section on angels again, his rather morbid sense of curiosity getting to him, and freezes for a second time.

There was a clear depiction of a sword, two wings curled protectively around the blade. Beside the drawing was a single word in Greek lettering, written down in Anna's tidy handwriting.

 _Μιχαήλ._

This, Sam can read.

 _Michael._


End file.
